


EOTW: Novella Six: Molefoot's Loss

by Jayie_The_Hufflepuff



Series: Warriors: Series 5.5: Echoes of the War [12]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 02:45:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15921232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayie_The_Hufflepuff/pseuds/Jayie_The_Hufflepuff
Summary: Sixth novella in the EOTW series. With the Dark Forest defeated, Molepaw and his Clanmates can look forward to a future of peace. But when leafbare strikes, it brings disease with it, and the cycle of loss and grief begins anew. When someone close to Molepaw's heart is lost, he must decide what his Clan and his courage mean to him, and whether loss will rule his life.





	1. Allegiances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allegiances for Molefoot's Loss

Molefoot‘s Loss Allegiances

NOVELLA 6

 

**THUNDERCLAN**

 

**LEADER**

BRAMBLESTAR - dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes

**DEPUTY**

SQUIRRELFLIGHT - dark ginger she-cat with green eyes

**MEDICINE CAT**

JAYFEATHER - gray tabby tom with blind blue eyes

**WARRIORS**

BRACKENFUR - golden brown tabby tom  
CLOUDTAIL - long-haired white tom with blue eyes  
MILLIE - striped gray tabby she-cat with blue eyes  
THORNCLAW - golden brown tabby tom  
LEAFPOOL - light brown tabby she-cat with amber eyes, former medicine cat  
SPIDERLEG - long-limbed black tom with brown underbelly and amber eyes  
BIRCHFALL - light brown tabby tom  
BERRYNOSE - cream-colored tom  
HAZELTAIL - gray-and-white she-cat  
MOUSEWHISKER - gray-and-white tom  
CINDERHEART - gray tabby she-cat  
POPPYFROST - tortoiseshell she-cat  
LIONBLAZE - golden tabby tom with amber eyes  
FOXLEAP - reddish tabby tom  
    APPRENTICE, CHERRYPAW  
ICECLOUD - white she-cat  
TOADSTEP - black-and-white tom  
ROSEPETAL - dark cream she-cat  
    APPRENTICE, MOLEPAW  
BRIARLIGHT - dark brown she-cat  
BLOSSOMFALL - tortoiseshell and white she-cat  
BUMBLESTRIPE - very pale gray tom with black stripes  
DOVEWING - pale gray she-cat with golden eyes  
IVYPOOL - silver-and-white tabby she-cat with dark blue eyes

**APPRENTICES**

CHERRYPAW - ginger she-cat  
MOLEPAW - cream-and-brown tom

**QUEENS**

SORRELTAIL - tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat with amber eyes, mother of Brackenfur’s kits (Seedkit, a very pale ginger she-cat, and Lilykit, a dark tabby she-cat with patches)  
BRIGHTHEART - white she-cat with ginger patches, mother of Cloudtail’s kits (Amberkit, a very small gray-and-white she-cat, Snowkit, a white tom with amber eyes, and Dewkit, a long-haired gray tom)  
DAISY - cream long-furred cat from the horseplace

**ELDERS**

PURDY - plump tabby tom, formerly a loner  
GRAYSTRIPE - long-haired gray tom  
DUSTPELT - dark brown tabby tom  
SANDSTORM - pale ginger she-cat with green eyes

 

**SHADOWCLAN**

 

**LEADER**

BLACKSTAR - large white tom with black paws

**DEPUTY**

ROWANCLAW - ginger tom

**MEDICINE CAT**

LITTLECLOUD - very small tabby tom  
    APPRENTICE, TWIGPAW (stump-tailed brown tabby tom)

**WARRIORS**

OAKFUR - small brown tom  
SMOKEFOOT - black tom  
CROWFROST - black-and-white tom  
TAWNYPELT - tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes  
    APPRENTICE, SPECKLEPAW  
RATSCAR - brown tom with long scar across his back  
    APPRENTICE, DEWPAW  
SNOWBIRD - pure white she-cat  
TOADFOOT - dark brown tom  
APPLEFUR - mottled brown she-cat  
OLIVENOSE - tortoiseshell she-cat  
TIGERHEART - dark brown tabby tom  
DAWNPELT - cream-furred she-cat  
SHREWFOOT - gray she-cat with black feet  
SCORCHFUR - dark gray tom  
FERRETCLAW - cream-and-gray tom

**QUEENS**

KINKFUR - tabby she-cat with long fur that sticks out at all angles, mother of Coricopat’s kits (Wetkit, a dark tabby tom)  
PINENOSE - black she-cat, mother of Toadfoot’s kits (Treekit, a dark brown she-cat)

**ELDERS**

TALLPOPPY - long-legged light brown tabby she-cat  
SNAKETAIL - dark brown tom with tabby-striped tail

 

**WINDCLAN**

 

**LEADER**

ONESTAR - brown tabby tom

**DEPUTY**

ASHFOOT - gray she-cat

**MEDICINE CAT**

KESTRELFLIGHT - mottled brown tom

**WARRIORS**

WHITETAIL - small white she-cat  
CROWFEATHER - dark gray tom  
OWLWHISKER - light brown tabby tom  
GORSETAIL - very pale gray-and-white she-cat with blue eyes  
WEASELFUR - ginger tom with white paws  
    APPRENTICE, LARKPAW  
HARESPRING - brown-and-white tom  
EMBERFOOT - gray tom with two dark paws  
    APPRENTICE, CROUCHPAW  
SEDGEWHISKER - light brown tabby she-cat  
SUNSTRIKE - tortoiseshell she-cat with large white mark on her forehead  
BOULDERFUR - large pale gray tom  
WHISKERNOSE - light brown tom

**QUEENS**

HEATHERTAIL - light brown tabby she-cat with blue eyes, mother of Breezepelt's kits (Darkkit, a dark gray tabby she-cat with blue eyes, and Nightkit, a brown mottled she-cat with amber eyes)

**ELDERS**

WEBFOOT - dark gray tabby tom  
TORNEAR - tabby tom

 

**RIVERCLAN**

 

**LEADER**

MISTYSTAR - blue-gray she-cat with blue eyes

**DEPUTY**

REEDWHISKER - black tom

**MEDICINE CAT**

MOTHWING - dappled golden she-cat  
    APPRENTICE, WILLOWSHINE (gray tabby she-cat)

**WARRIORS**

MINNOWTAIL - dark gray she-cat  
    APPRENTICE, LEAFPAW  
MALLOWNOSE - light brown tabby tom  
ROBINWING - tortoiseshell-and-white tom  
    APPRENTICE, SILVERPAW  
PETALFUR - gray-and-white she-cat  
GRASSPELT - light brown tom  
MOSSYFOOT - brown-and-white she-cat  
TROUTSTREAM - pale gray tabby she-cat  
RUSHTAIL - light brown tabby tom  
    APPRENTICE, HERONPAW

**QUEENS**

DUSKFUR - brown tabby she-cat, mother of Reedwhisker’s kits (Lilykit, a black she-cat with golden eyes, and Pondkit, a dark brown tom with white paws)

**ELDERS**

DAPPLENOSE - mottled gray she-cat  
POUNCETAIL - ginger-and-white tom  
MOSSPELT - tortoiseshell she-cat with blue eyes  
GRAYMIST - pale gray tabby she-cat

 

**CATS OUTSIDE THE CLAN**

 

SMOKY - muscular gray-and-white tom who lives in a barn at the horseplace  
FLOSS - small gray-and-white she-cat who lives at the horseplace  
CORICOPAT - dark gray-and-white tom with green eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are with the allegiances of Molefoot's Loss. ^^ Not too much to say here. I think I've got all of this listed right, but if I have to go back and make changes for continuity I will. This book is gonna be a pain with continuity in general - let's just say that I was way better at tracking cats' ages at the end of writing EOTW than I was at the beginning, and it's created some plot holes that I'm gonna have to address here. :P


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories haunt a young apprentice...

Warriors Series 5.5: Echoes of the War  
Novella 6: Molefoot's Loss  
Chapter One

     An air of death hung over the forest. Clouds had rolled in above, blotting out the light of Silverpelt and leaving the woods in a sickly darkness. The grass underpaw was unnaturally sleek and wet, and the stench of decay radiated from the trees and undergrowth all around. An unnatural stillness had settled over the smaller creatures of the forest. In the distance, the yowls and screams of dying warriors could be heard. The tom raced through the night, desperate to block out the horrors all around him, but they battered in his ears and his mind, until they became like a roaring storm that blocked out all other thought. Everything about the night was like a nightmare.

     The tom's breath came out in ragged gasps as he tore through the forest. All of his earlier bravado for blood and battle had faded. Now all he could feel was his own terror, and the blood roaring in his ears. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in the safety of his nest. But he couldn't stop. His Clan was depending on him.

     Suddenly, a new sound broke through the distant cries, the wild shriek of a cat much closer than the battling warriors. The stench of rotting wood rolled over the tom. Terror blazed through every hair on his pelt. _A Dark Forest cat!_ Fear lent his paws new speed. He shrieked as he hurtled through the forest, the hot breath of the dead cat brushing the tips of his tail fur. _I can't die like this,_ the young tom pleaded silently, hoping that somehow, his ancestors could hear him and lend him strength. _I have to keep going. I have to..._

     “Molepaw?”

     With a gasp, the tom jerked awake. Light and color flashed in a blur around him. For a moment, he thought he was still in that terrible night, fleeing the vicious jaws of a Dark Forest rogue. Then his vision began to clear, and he recognized the friendly ginger face peering at his own. “Are you alright?” the tabby asked. Concern glowed in her green eyes.

     Molepaw gave himself a quick shake, hurrying to flatten his bristled pelt. “I'm fine,” he mewed hastily.

     His denmate didn't seem entirely concerned, but after a brief pause, she didn't comment further. Instead she mewed, “Squirrelflight's handing out duties for the day. Come on, we'd better go see if we're needed.”

     Molepaw's jaws split in a final yawn. “Alright.” He rose to his paws, allowing himself a quick stretch of his limbs before following the tabby out of the den.

     A grisly sight awaited the tom. Dried blood and torn fur were scattered around the stone hollow, sand and grass torn and scored deeply with clawmarks, and many of the dens were in tatters. The stench of blood and fear still hung heavy in the air. Several cats were gathered in front of the High Ledge, a ginger she-cat sitting at its base and facing the rest of them. A dull glaze of grief was settled over every cat's features.

     Four days had passed since the terrible battle against the Dark Forest. Though the shadowy spirits had not been seen since the Clan cats had driven them out, the memory of them haunted the Clan's every waking moment. No cat could forget what they'd seen that horrible night. The spirits of their own dead Clanmates come back to slay them all, savage with the joy of battle and death. Molepaw's dreams had been stalked by memories of the battle ever since it had happened. He felt like he might never be free of the fear that had consumed him that night.

     “Come on, lazypaws.” The tabby's mew pulled Molepaw out of his thoughts. He turned to see her looking at him with an impatient stare. “Let's go.” The tom gave a brief nod, then allowed his denmate to lead him towards the crowd around the High Ledge.

     Squirrelflight was already speaking by the time they sat towards the edge of the crowd. “Brackenfur, Hazeltail, and Toadstep, do a sweep of the WindClan border, and check that the tunnels haven't been disturbed, just in case,” she said. Weariness painted every line of the deputy's face. The warriors she'd named rose to their paws, then padded away from the crowd and towards the camp entrance. “Icecloud, Poppyfrost, Birchfall, and Spiderleg, check the ShadowClan border. Millie, I need you to lead a hunting patrol and scrounge up anything you can find to eat. Leafpool, Cloudtail, you're in charge of den repairs.”

     “Yes, Squirrelflight,” the two warriors mewed. Leafpool's eyes glowed with a dull grief as she joined the white tom near the front of the crowd. With a pang of grief, Molepaw remembered that her daughter, Hollyleaf, had died in the battle. _She saved my life once, and I barely even knew her,_ he though with a rush of regret. _How do you ever repay something like that?_ Her father, Firestar, had lost his last life in the battle as well. It still stunned Molepaw to think that his leader was dead. Firestar had been the greatest hero in the forest, and now he was gone, forever. Bramblestar had earned his nine lives after the battle, and had assigned Squirrelflight as his deputy, but it was clear both cats were struggling to deal with their new responsibilities on top of their grief.

     “Molepaw, Cherrypaw.” The apprentice was pulled from his distracted thoughts by Cloudtail's meow. The tom was staring at Molepaw and his ginger denmate, a focused glow in his blue eyes. “I need you two to gather as many branches as you can find, then bring them back here,” he ordered. “We'll need them to rebuild the dens.”

     Cherrypaw dipped her head. “Yes, Cloudtail.” She nudged Molepaw with her shoulder, mewing a quick, “Come on!” before heading off towards the bramble tunnel. Molepaw followed quickly after her, allowing his sister to lead him out into the forest.

     The woods around him seemed to be a completely different forest from the one he'd raced through the night of the battle. Golden light streamed through the breaks between branches, the grass was soft and green, the undergrowth bloomed and rustled with life all around him. And yet he couldn't shake the fear that had followed him ever since that night. The memory of howls and shrieks ringing through the trees, and a Dark Forest's breath hot on his tail, were too fresh to be driven away by the sunlight. Even his sunny forest home seemed a place of danger to him now.

     The tom gave his head a brisk shake to clear it, then glanced at his sister. “We could try the oak tree by the little stream,” he suggested, trying to force a cheery tone. He didn't want to spend the whole day haunted by memories. “There's usually some good branches around there.”

     “No, a lot of those branches got trampled during the battle,” Cherrypaw told him. “They're too broken up to be any use.” She tipped her head thoughtfully. “I saw a lot of branches under a beech tree near the lake on my patrol yesterday,” she mewed slowly. “Let's try there.”

     Molepaw nodded in easy agreement. He allowed his sister to lead him through the forest, trying to hide how his pelt bristled at every sound. It didn't take the pair long to reach the lake. As Cherrypaw charged down the slope towards the beech tree, Molepaw followed quickly behind, uneasy at the thought of being left too far behind. He could quickly see that Cherrypaw had been right about the tree. Branches were strewn everywhere around its roots. A few were broken into splinters or worn through with rot, but there were several fresher branches that looked perfect for building dens.

     Cherrypaw headed straight for one of the largest branches, digging her claws into the bark. “This will be perfect for the dens!” she purred. She tried to close her jaws around the branch, but it was so thick that she couldn't fit her teeth around it. The she-cat gave a short hiss of frustration. “Give me a paw, would you?”

     Molepaw's whiskers twitched. “That's too big to use for the dens, mousebrain,” he teased. He headed instead for a smaller branch, prising it easily from the ground and giving it a quick shake to get rid of the dirt. “This will be easier to work into the den walls,” he mewed around a mouthful of bark.

     “Whatever,” Cherrypaw mewed dismissively. “Mine was big enough to make a whole den on its own.” Nevertheless, she left her branch behind and joined Molepaw, tugging another smaller branch free from the mud. “I don't see what the point of all this rebuilding is anyway,” she joked as she and Molepaw started putting together a pile of branches. “The warriors are grumpy if there's so much as a breeze in the den anyway, and Purdy would complain even if StarClan themselves came down and built a den for him.”

     Grief swept over the young tom. “I don't think he's in much of a mood to complain right now,” he murmured. Cherrypaw glanced at her brother, something serious lighting in her eyes. “Not since Mousefur...”

     Cherrypaw hesitated for a moment. When she spoke again, her mew was unusually gentle. “Are you okay?” Molepaw looked at her in surprise. “Ever since the battle, you've been so quiet, even more than usual. You keep twitching and mewling in your sleep.”

     The tom ducked his head, embarrassed. “I'm fine,” he muttered. He'd been so determined to prove himself as a brave warrior, so eager to match his sister's fire in battle. He couldn't show her just how badly the battle had effected him. But when Cherrypaw turned away, clearly not convinced, he allowed himself to ask a question that had been festering in his mind. “Do you think things will ever go back to the way they were?” The words came out in a small and vulnerable mew, much more so than Molepaw had intended. He couldn't hide the fear that backed his question. Ever since the battle, every warrior had been acting like the sky had fallen around their ears, and they no longer knew which way was up. That almost scared Molepaw more than the battle itself had. How could they ever go on if he couldn't turn to his older Clanmates for the courage he lacked?

     Unease glowed in Cherrypaw's eyes. For a moment, his brave, fiery sister looked almost as scared as he felt. “I... I don't know,” she answered honestly. There was a somber note to her mew. “We fought our own ancestors. I don't know if there's any way things can go back to normal after that.” After a few moments, she gave a brief shake of her head, then glanced at Molepaw with a calmer expression. “But it's not like we've never fought before. We've heard all of the stories of the great battles in the Clans' past. If the Clans can get past things like the TigerClan and the BloodClan battle, they can get through this, can't they?”

     “But this wasn't like any other battle,” Molepaw argued. He could hear fear creeping into his mew, even as he tried to fight it back. “The cats we fought were _dead._ Our own ancestors came back to try and kill us all. They took so many of our Clanmates. How can we ever forget that happened?”

     “Well obviously we can't forget it,” Cherrypaw snorted. Some of the usual fire was returning to her eyes. “But we _won_ that battle, remember? We beat the Dark Forest. That's got to mean more than the fact that they came back. They may be scary, but now we know that we can win, no mater what happens.” Wonder glowed in her eyes as she added, “And they weren't the only ones in that battle, remember? _StarClan_ was there. They fought beside us like living cats. How lucky are we, that we got to see something like that? You can't just worry about the bad stuff.” The tabby stretched out her muzzle, giving Molepaw's cheek a swift, comforting lick. “Come on, Cloudtail will throw a fit if we aren't back with these branches soon.” She grabbed a few of the branches, then started off towards the forest, away from the lake.

     Molepaw watched after her for a few moments before moving to follow. He wished he could share his sister's optimism, but his pelt still throbbed with a dull ache of fear. Sure, they knew StarClan watched over them more surely than ever before, but they also knew that the power of the Dark Forest was greater than they'd ever imagined. How could life go on as normal in a world where the dead could kill the living? How could a Clan survive with warriors as scared as lost kits? _And how can I ever be a brave warrior if all I can feel is my own fear?_

**SCENEBREAK**

     After bringing the branches back to camp, Cherrypaw was whisked away for a hunting patrol with Foxleap while Molepaw was left behind to work on den repairs. He was helping Dovewing weave a branch into the side of the nursery when Brightheart padded out of it. The queen's blue eye turned to gaze at the pair, exposing the jagged scars on one side of her face as she turned her head. Even after knowing her all his life, Molepaw had to suppress a shudder at the sight of them. After a moment, the queen approached the pair with a friendly flick of her tail. “How's it going?” she asked.

     “Alright,” Dovewing answered. Her eyes were narrowed with concentration as she finished putting the branch into place. Her task done, she turned her gaze to Brightheart. “There's still a few holes that need patching up, but it actually looks like a den again, finally.”

     Dovewing was right, Molepaw mused. A look around the camp clearly showed the progress of the last four days. Though the warrior's den was still patchy in places, and the nursery had a few holes left, the dens were starting to take proper shape again. Even the fur and blood was starting to be cleared away. Soon, the camp would look the same as it ever had. _But that doesn't mean the cats living in it will be the same,_ Molepaw reflected uneasily.

     “I'm just glad our den is a cave,” he mewed aloud, trying to ignore his darker thoughts. “There's not much even the Dark Forest could do to damage stone.”

     Brightheart's whiskers twitched. “It must be lonely, though, having that den just to yourself and Cherrypaw,” she mewed. “And it'll be moons until Sorreltail's kits are old enough to join you there.”

     Molepaw shrugged. “It can, but I've got my sister,” he mewed. “It's kind of hard to feel lonely when Cherrypaw is there.”

     A warm light glowed in Brightheart's good eye. “I remember feeling the same with my littermates,” she murmured. “Especially when Thornclaw and I started training together.” For a moment, her gaze turned thoughtful. “When's the last time you were out in the forest?” she suddenly asked. “All I've seen you doing since the battle is helping with dens.”

     “I went out to look for branches this morning,” Molepaw mewed. “But I haven't been hunting or anything, not since Rosepetal got hurt.” Brightheart's gaze suddenly grew dark. Molepaw's mentor, Rosepetal, had been among the warriors injured in the battle with the Dark Forest. A long gash on one leg had left her barely able to walk. Jayfeather had assured the Clan it was treatable, but for the time being, she was confined to the medicine den for treatment, along with several other injured cats.

     Brightheart gazed thoughtfully at the apprentice for a few moments before mewing, “How'd you like to come hunting with me? I could use a chance to stretch my legs, after spending so much time in the nursery.”

     Molepaw’s ears flicked forward in surprise. Brightheart’s second litter with Cloudtail was less than a moon old, and queens with young kits usually didn’t leave the nursery very often. “Are you sure?”

     Brightheart nodded. “Sorreltail’s kits will keep mine busy, and Daisy can keep an eye on them all while I’m gone,” she mewed.

     “There’s a lot of squirrels climbing trees around the clearing by the old ash stump.” Molepaw’s attention was pulled back to Dovewing by her mew. Her golden gaze was distant and unfocused - with a brush of unease, Molepaw realized she must be using her power to look out into the forest. “You can probably get some good hunting done there.”

     If Brightheart shared his unease with their Clanmate’s power, she didn’t show it. All she did was give a grateful flick of her good ear and mew, “Come on, Molepaw.” The tom followed the one-eyed queen as she led him away from the nursery and out into the forest beyond.

     The pair traveled in easy silence for some time before reaching the clearing. Sure enough, the air was filled with the calls of squirrels in the trees above. Molepaw couldn’t suppress a shudder. “It’s creepy how Dovewing can do that,” he muttered.

     No cat had known about the prophecy of the Three or their Clanmates’ powers before the battle. After the Dark Forest was defeated, the Three has explained everything to the Clans. The prophecy, their powers, how they’d used them to see the battle coming. Molepaw hadn’t thought anything could be more shocking than seeing the dead rise to fight them, but learning that three of his Clanmates held more power than StarClan had come pretty close. Molepaw’s Clanmates hardly seemed to know how to act around the Three anymore, and Molepaw wasn’t sure he did either. How could you treat a cat with the power of the stars in their paws like any other Clanmate?

     Brightheart glanced at Molepaw. “I know it’s strange knowing our Clanmates have these powers,” she mewed, as though she’d heard Molepaw’s thoughts. “But they’re the same cats they’ve always been. Let’s just be grateful that Dovewing’s advice can lead us to good hunting like this.” There was a defensive gleam in her eye - with a start, Molepaw remembered that Dovewing was the kit of her daughter, Whitewing. Of course she was eager to defend her from the unease of her Clanmates.

     “Right, sorry,” he mewed hastily. Brightheart’s gaze softened at the apology. The two fell into silence again, turning their attention to the hunt. It wasn’t long before Brightheart had brought down a pair of squirrels, and Molepaw had wrestled a starling to the ground before it had a chance to fly away.

     As Molepaw dispatched it with a nip to the spine, Brightheart called out, “Nice catch!” Molepaw looked up at her with a grateful curl of his tail. Brightheart started scraping leaves and dirt over her catch, mewing, “I’m sure Purdy will be grateful for that. He’s always said that starlings are his favorite.”

     Grief clawed at Molepaw’s heart. “It must be so lonely in the elder’s den, now that he’s the only one there.”

     A somber light glowed in Brightheart’s eye. “Somehow, I don’t think he’ll be alone in there for long,” she murmured. Molepaw flicked one ear in agreement - Graystripe and Sandstorm were starting to look gray around the muzzle, and the life seemed to have died from Dustpelt since the battle. “But it’s always hard losing a denmate.”

     Sympathy welled up in Molepaw’s chest as he remembered that Purdy hadn’t been alone in losing a denmate. “I’m sorry about Ferncloud,” he mewed. Brightheart glanced at him in surprise. “How are the kits getting on without her?”

     “They miss her, of course,” Brightheart sighed. “We all do, Daisy especially. They were such good friends. But we still have so many good friends and kin to turn to, so many cats to take comfort in. Dustpelt has his kits, Daisy has hers, we all have someone to turn to, even when cats we love are lost. That’s what makes living in a Clan so worthwhile. I can’t imagine what I would do without my kin.”

     “Really?” The words were coming out before Molepaw could stop them. “Even Thornclaw?” Embarrassment flooded him as Brightheart stiffened. “I... I just mean, since he trained in the Dark Forest...”

     It had been a shock to learn that some of their own Clanmates had been training in the Dark Forest with their treacherous ancestors. Though those cats had fought for their Clan in the end, Molepaw couldn’t help feeling uneasy around them now, and many cats were openly hostile to them. How could any cat be a true warrior while keeping such terrible secrets? How could any cat ever trust them again?

     There was an uneasy glow in Brightheart’s eye. For a moment, anger flashed there, but it was quickly doused. She gave a weary sigh. “Of course it hurt to learn he’d been keeping that from me,” she mewed quietly. “And I can understand why you’d doubt him now, and all of the other cats who trained there. But he’s still my brother. I know he’s sorry for what he did, and that he was only ever trying to become a stronger warrior for the Clan.”

     Her gaze was intense as she looked at Molepaw, as though urging him to understand. “What matters most is that he and the other trainees fought their Dark Forest mentors to protect us. They made a mistake, but they’re loyal to us, and they would die to defend any of their Clanmates. In time, they’ll prove themselves. Just try to remember that.” Her gaze grew softer as she added, “You’re a good apprentice, Molepaw. I know you’ll do just fine. Just remember that no matter what we saw in that battle, your Clan is always here for you.”

     Molepaw gave a weak purr in response, but inside he was as confused and anxious as ever. So much had changed after only one battle - how could he be sure of anything anymore? But perhaps Brightheart had a point about one thing. He could rely on his kin. Berrynose And Poppyfrost has always been there for him, and Cherrypaw was as fiercely loyal and supportive as any cat could wish for in a sister. None of them would ever betray him with such dark secrets as training with the dead.

     As long as he could rely on them, perhaps things would be alright after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are with the first chapter of Molefoot's Loss. :D Not much I can think of to say here, other than I'm gonna try and not just do a retread of Dovewing's Silence with this book. It'll deal with the same timeframe pretty much, but since EOTW follows a different continuity, it'll deal with different events, and through a different set of eyes. I think Molepaw's going to be fun to write. ^^ Most of this chapter is just going over what happened in the Dark Battle and how cats are reacting to it. I feel like there's more I wanted to say, but I'm tired and can't think of what it was, so oh well, I'll deal with it later if I think of it. :P
> 
> However, I do have one really exciting thing to announce. Lukas_solar on An Archive of Our Own reached out to me, and has, with my permission, begun translating Faded Boundaries into Russian. :D It's so cool to see my work translated, I can't read a word of it in Russian of course, but it's just so exciting to think that my work can be read in another language, I'm so grateful. :D Go check it out if you can! Here's the link: https://www.deviantart.com/users/outgoing?https://archiveofourown.org/works/15914736/chapters/37099074
> 
> Like I said, it could be a while until the next chapter, so just hang tight. Until then, I hope this tides you over. ^^


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moon later...

Warriors Series 5.5: Echoes of the War  
Novella 6: Molefoot's Loss  
Chapter Two

     “Cats of all Clans, this Gathering has begun!”

     Blackstar’s yowl was oddly subdued as it sounded from the Great Tree. The crowd fell instantly silent at the call. Heads turned to face the Great Tree, and Clanmates and enemy warriors pressed together, a grim mood falling over all of them. Molepaw pressed closer to his sister’s side. _This feels more like a vigil than a Gathering,_ he thought.

     Blackstar waited as the crowd fell silent. All four leaders sat on the branches of the Great Tree. Onestar was on a branch above the other leaders, his amber eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Mistystar stood beside Bramblestar on his branch, giving the tom a respectful nod as he sat beside her, and Blackstar was on a branch below Onestar.

     It was a sobering sight to see Bramblestar on the tree with the other leaders. Never again would a flame-colored pelt glow silver in the moonlight, green eyes flashing with passion as the forest’s hero spoke for his Clan. Molepaw’s Heart twisted with grief. Though he hadn’t known Firestar as well as some of his older Clanmates, he had admired the kind tom. Even a moon after his death, it was strange to think ThunderClan would never be led by him again.

     “Warriors of all Clans, we stand here tonight, victorious in the face of our greatest enemy,” Blackstar began once every cat was listening. Though his words were strong, his mew cracked, and his pelt clung tightly to a frame frail with age. “A great darkness has cursed the Clans, but with the strength of the stars behind us, we fought side by side with our ancestors to drive it back. The courage and honor of the warrior code triumphed over evil. We have won.” He lifted his muzzle, yowling, “To the Clans!”

     Slowly, starting dull but soon building in volume, victorious yowls rose from the crowd. “ThunderClan! WindClan! ShadowClan!” Warriors were toing the names of their Clans, and the Clans of their allies. Stunned grief had held its grip over the Clans since the battle - but now, their yowls were full of the joy of being alive. Molepaw added his voice to the rest of the crowd, yowling, “ThunderClan! ThunderClan!” Cherrypaw’s gleeful yowling echoed his own.

     Blackstar waited for the yowls to die down before continuing. “Our losses are not forgotten in the face of victory,” he said. “Ivytail, Owlclaw, and Starlingwing all died noble deaths defending their Clanmates, and Stoatpaw was killed on her way to deliver a message. Weaselkit, too young to die, was taken from us, as was... as was Whitewater.” For a moment, as he spoke of the death of his mate, Blackstar’s composure wavered. Grief glinted in his eyes. Then, with a sharp jerk of his chin, he went on, “But life moves forward, and now we know more than ever that our lost Clanmates are watching over us. We must celebrate new life, not dwell on death.”

     “Didn’t Redwillow die in the battle too?” a black apprentice near Molepaw murmured. “Blackstar didn’t list him.”

     His Clanmate, a gray apprentice called Larkpaw, flicked her tail uneasily. “He died fighting for the Dark Forest,” she explained to her denmate. “I guess it’s no surprise Blackstar wouldn’t want to bring him up...” Molepaw remembered Lionblaze explaining how the aging leader had struck down Redwillow with a single blow. Though Redwillow had been a traitor, Blackstar might not be looking to celebrate killing his own Clanmate.

     “ShadowClan brings news of new kits,” Blackstar hurried on, clearly eager to leave the memory of his mate’s death behind. “Kinkfur gave birth to one son after the battle, a healthy tom sure to grow into a fine warrior. In addition, one of our apprentices has chosen to change his path. Twigpaw has left his warrior training to become Littlecloud’s apprentice.”

     Following Blackstar’s gaze, Molepaw spotted a small, stump-tailed apprentice sitting beside Littlecloud. Twigpaw ducked his head, seeming uncomfortable with the attention. Blackstar’s mew was warm as he continued, “He has already shown promise as a healer, and I know Littlecloud will pass all of his wisdom to his new apprentice.”

     “Twigpaw! Twigpaw!” The crowd's cheers carried a triumphant edge. New medicine cats in training was always good news for everyone, but after the untimely death of Flametail some moons ago, there had been worries that Littlecloud wouldn't take another apprentice until it was too late. Now, however, the all-too-important wisdom of healing and interpreting StarClan's signs would be passed on to a new ShadowClan medicine cat before they were lost to memory. One legacy, at least, was safe.

     Blackstar settled back on his branch, indicating the end of his announcements. Onestar stepped forward next. There was a glow of strength in the tom's eyes – he was the only Clan leader not to have lost a life in the battle. Even so, gray hairs speckled his muzzle, betraying his age. “WindClan honors the sacrifices of Leaftail, who died protecting the nursery, and Swallowtail, who was struck down while fighting for her Clan.” For a moment, his gaze hardened, and his lip curled in a sneer. “Furzepelt died fighting for the Dark Forest traitors, and Breezepelt was exiled for fighting against his Clanmates. Nightcloud went with him. If either of them are seen on your territories, feel free to treat them however you will – they are no longer WindClan's concern. We have suffered losses, but we have come out of the battle stronger, knowing that all of our remaining warriors are loyal.”

     Uneasy murmurs spread through the crowd, but Onestar didn't seem keen to elaborate. He settled back onto his branch, leaving Mistystar to take over. Molepaw snuck a glance towards Jayfeather and Lionblaze. The two toms were Breezepelt's half brothers – it must have effected them to hear that Breezepelt had been exiled. But Jayfeather's expression gave away nothing, and Lionblaze gave only a stiff lash of his tail, his gaze growing hard. Molepaw glanced at his sister, giving a silent prayer of thanks to StarClan that his family's situation wasn't nearly as complicated as Breezepelt's. He didn't know what he would do if he didn't have his kin, and his sister especially, to rely on.

     “RiverClan mourns the losses of Mintfur and Pebblefoot, and especially Curlpaw and Podpaw, who were too young to be lost in battle,” Mistystar began in a raspy mew. Weariness glowed in the she-cat's eyes. Molepaw remembered his arrival in RiverClan's camp during the battle, and how he'd been told Mistystar had lost a life. From the whispers before the leaders' speeches had started, she had lost a second life after the battle from her wounds. Mistystar was the oldest leader in the forest – Molepaw wondered how much longer she could go on, if she'd already lost so many lives.

     Anger glowed in Mistystar's eyes as she continued, “Icewing and Hollowflight abandoned their loyalty to their Clan to fight for dead traitors, and they have been exiled for it,” she called out in a tone of tight anger. “But the rest of our warrior fought loyally, and now, we have two new apprentices training to join the ranks of those warriors. Leafpaw and Silverpaw have begun their training, and are being mentored by Minnowtail and Robinwing.”

     “Leafpaw! Silverpaw! Leafpaw! Silverpaw!” Cheers for the new apprentices rose from the crowd. Once the cries died down, she stepped down, finally allowed Bramblestar to speak for his Clan for the first time.

     The tom's massive frame was outlined in silver by the moonlight. His amber eyes glowed as he stared down into the crowd, his head held high and his tail lashing proudly. For a moment, Molepaw could almost pretend that Bramblestar had always been leader, that his confidence marked him as an experienced leader of many seasons, that the Clan hadn't been shaken by the loss of a leader less than a moon ago.

     “ThunderClan suffered many losses in the Dark Battle,” Bramblestar rumbled. Molepaw stiffened – he'd heard a few cats refer to the battle as such in whispers to each other, but now, with Bramblestar naming it so with such certainty, it seemed like a real name for the battle. “Ferncloud and Mousefur were lost defending their dens, and Hollyleaf died nobly, sacrificing her life to save another warrior.” Molepaw saw Ivypool hang her head wretchedly in the crowd, and his heart ached with sympathy for her. He knew what it was to owe the dead warrior his life. “But it was Firestar's death that ended the battle, and finally ended the threat of my father that has loomed over this forest ever since he first rose to power. StarClan will honor him forever for his courage in finally destroying the spirit of Tigerstar, and being one of the Four to lead the Clans into this battle.”

     “Firestar! Firestar!” The call was scattered at first, a few eager cats with the rest uncertain to take up the cry, but steadily the cry grew. Soon the whole island was filled with the chant of “Firestar! Firestar! Firestar!” Though not all of the Clans had trusted or liked Firestar in life, none of them could deny his honor in ending the last threat of the Dark Forest, or his nobility as a leader.

     When the cries died down, Bramblestar continued, “As Firestar's deputy, I have succeeded him as the new leader. My deputy is Squirrelflight – working together with each other, and with our Clan, we have been able to to rebuild from what we have lost. All of our warriors served us with honor and loyalty in the battle, and now three of those warriors have decided to retire. Sandstorm, Dustpelt, and Graystripe have been welcomed into the elder's den with honor for their lives of service.”

     Cheers rose once more from the crowd. “Bramblestar! Squirrelflight! Sandstorm! Dustpelt! Graystripe!” Molepaw's gaze was drawn to the new elders in the crowd. Dustpelt was slumped beside his new denmates, his gaze bleak and defeated, just as it had been ever since Ferncloud had died. Sandstorm looked wearier too now that Firestar was gone, but there was still strength in her eyes as she murmured to Dustpelt. Graystripe held his head high, a look of peace in his eyes as Millie pressed against him, purring.

     Bramblestar waited for the cheering to fall silent before continuing. “Cats of all Clans, we have suffered great hardships through this battle,” he rumbled. “I know that I am a new leader, and I have much to learn – and a great legacy to live up to. But I know in my heart that if the Clans can survive this battle, they can survive anything. We fought side by side with our ancestors in StarClan to defend our Clanmates and our home, and we triumphed. We have the love of our ancestors to guide us, and our loyalty to each other to give us strength. As long as we hold true to that, the Clans will live on forever.”

     Approving yowls rose up from the gathered cats as Bramblestar stepped back. With the last report made, the Gathering was over. The crowd broke up as the cries died down, cats chattering with each other in lighter mews than they'd had when they'd arrived. Somehow, after the leader's speeches of hope and looking forward, the air around the Clan cats seemed lighter than it had all moon. Even Molepaw's heart felt lighter now. Maybe the leaders were right – maybe now, they could all move on, now that the past was behind them.

     “Come on,” Cherrypaw hissed in his ear. “I want to hear the end of Crouchpaw's story.” Molepaw allowed his sister to lead him to a cluster of apprentices. She gave a friendly mew of greeting as they reached the apprentices. “So Crouchpaw, how'd you get out of that weasel den without getting caught?”

     As the black tom continued his tale for Cherrypaw, Molepaw turned to the three she-cats in the group. Leafpaw and Silverpaw had joined the group, glancing shyly around at the older apprentices. “Congratulations on becoming apprentices,” he mewed to them.

     “Thanks,” Silverpaw murmured. There was a certain gentleness to the she-cat's mew, despite clearly being nervous. “You're... Molepaw, right? I remember you coming to deliver a message during the battle.”

     Molepaw nodded. His heart clenched at the memory of the battle – but for the first time, there was relief as well. They had won the battle, and now they could move forward. “I am,” he confirmed. “You guys are Mosspelt's kits, aren't you?” he asked. “I remember meeting your mother at a Gathering. She seemed really nice.”

     “She is,” Leafpaw purred. Her mew was stronger than her sister's, and there was a certain bold curiosity in her expression as she glanced at Larkpaw. “You were ones training in the Dark Forest, weren't you?” she asked in a blunt mew.

     Larkpaw stiffened, and Crouchpaw fell silent, glancing with concern at his denmate. An awkward air hung over the group of apprentices. “Yes, I was,” Larkpaw finally answered in a careful mew. She glanced uncertainly at Crouchpaw, who gave her a reassuring nod. “My father trained there first, and I wanted to make him proud by being a strong warrior. But then he died in a training session, and my mother was killed in the battle. I know I made a terrible mistake – but I'm not loyal to those monsters! I fought for my Clan!”

     Leafpaw's ears flew back in surprise. “Whoa, I never thought you were,” she assured Larkpaw. “I'm sorry. I was just asking because I heard my mentor mention your name. Minnowtail trained in the Dark Forest too – but she's as loyal as any warrior could hope to be.”

     “Are things hard in WindClan for the former trainees?” Molepaw asked Larkpaw.

     She sighed. “Not all of the time, not since Crowfeather and some of others stood up for us. Those of us who got to stay fought against the Dark Forest, after all. But sometimes, the way certain cats look at me... I can tell they still don't trust me.”

     “Well I trust you!” Crouchpaw mewed firmly. There was a soft glow in his eyes as he gave his denmate an encouraging purr. “You risked your life to fight the Dark Forest in the battle – so did the other trainees. Our Clanmates are just being harebrains. They'll come around eventually, you'll see.” Molepaw had to suppress a purr at Crouchpaw's expression – it was clear that the usually-gruff tom had a soft spot for his denmate.

     Larkpaw gave Crouchpaw a grateful look. “Thanks, Crouchpaw,” she purred. She turned back to Molepaw, mewing in a stronger tone, “I know what I did was wrong, and so do the others. But we never meant to hurt our Clans. All we can do now is serve our Clans loyally, and prove ourselves by being good warriors like any other.” There was a certain nobility in how she spoke, a calm strength in her mew that seemed beyond her moons. Molepaw could see why Crouchpaw had come to admire her.

     Not long after she'd spoken, the calls of the Clan leaders sounded nearby, calling the cats to gather with their Clans. The apprentices mewed quick farewells before going their separate ways. “Mousedung,” Cherrypaw grumbled. “I didn't get to hear the end of Crouchpaw's story.” She flicked her tail once, then gave a small shrug. “Oh well, I guess there's always next Gathering.”

     Molepaw paused, taking a final moment to look back at cats moving around the island. That one Gathering really had seemed to shift the way cats were thinking about the Dark Battle, himself included. The blows had only been traded for one night, but the battle hung over the Clans like a cloud for the moon after – but now it finally felt like the battle had ended. They had honored their dead, they had taken steps towards forgiving their Clanmates who had been fooled by the Dark Forest, and now they could look to a better, more peaceful future. It finally felt like things were taking a turn for the better.

     “Yeah,” he mewed, echoing his sister's thought. “There's always next time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't gonna write another chapter so soon, but I was in a strong mood to write yesterday, so I somehow wrote up the whole thing in one day. :P So here's the newest chapter of Molefoot's Loss.
> 
> We've moved forward a moon, and now we get to see the first Gathering since the Dark Battle. I definitely tried not to copy some of the concepts shown in Bramblestar's Storm - Blackstar listing the fallen, and so on - but still make it feel true to how these characters would react to this situation and how I feel the first Gathering after the battle would go in my 'verse. It was nice getting to write a Gathering again, it's been a while. And it was nice getting to write some EOTW characters when they were a bit younger.
> 
> For the next few chapters, there's going to be a fair bit of time-skipping. I'm still trying to work out the best way to do this and make it still flow well, so there might be a wait until the next chapter, but we'll see. I'm also supposed to leave for vacation in Disney this Saturday, but a certain hurricane is making that rather difficult at the moment, so we're trying to figure out alternate ways to get to Florida. So that might take up my attention for a bit, as will my vacation once I get there. Until then, I hope this tides you over. ^^


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time later...

Warriors Series 5.5: Echoes of the War  
Novella 6: Molefoot's Loss  
Chapter Three

     The air was knocked out of Molepaw as he was slammed hard onto his back. He gasped for air, panting between bared fangs as a ginger muzzle hovered above his own. Two green eyes peered down at him. He lashed out fast, closing his jaws over the tabby's shoulder and battering at her belly with his hind paws. With his greater strength, he managed to wrench her shoulder down to the ground, and in a swift motion, he pulled himself up onto his paws and pinned her torso to the ground. The tabby flailed, striking out at him with hard blows from her paws, but he quickly managed to get her hips pinned as well, and soon her struggles ceased.

     “Enough!”

     At the call from the warrior, Molepaw immediately backed off of his opponent, allowing the tabby to scramble to her paws. A joyous light was shining in her eyes. “Great fight!” she panted as she settled onto her haunches. She turned to lick smooth some of the mussed fur on her shoulder where Molepaw's jaws had clamped down. “I didn't see that flip coming. Nice move.”

     “Thanks,” Molepaw grunted. Pride stirred under his pelt at his sister's praise, though the bruises she'd given him kept him from getting too wrapped up in his victory. “You definitely put up a fight, though.”

     As Cherrypaw continued grooming, Molepaw's mentor approached them. “Well done, you two,” she purred. “Molepaw, you did very well in turning a potential defeat into a victory. You've learned a lot these last few moons – I'm very impressed with your progress.”

     Molepaw blinked warmly at the she-cat. “Thanks, Brightheart,” he purred.

     Rosepetal's injury had healed some time ago, but her leg was still too stiff to allow her to return to full warrior duties. Since she was unable to keep up with Molepaw's training, Brightheart had been chosen to take over as Molepaw's mentor.

     It had taken some convincing for Bramblestar to allow it, since Brightheart was a nursing queen, but Molepaw and Brightheart had finally made him see that they already worked well together, and that Brightheart could handle the work of mentoring on top of caring for her kits. The she-cat had insisted that training would help distract from her grief – her daughter Whitewing had died fighting a fox a moon after the Dark Battle. Since then, the one-eyed warrior had worked tirelessly to be the best mentor she could for her new charge. Molepaw had come to respect the she-cat greatly in the moons since she'd become his mentor. She had taught him more than he'd ever expected.

     “You did great too, Cherrypaw,” Foxleap purred. The small tom came to stand beside Brightheart, purring and blinking warmly at his apprentice. “We'll keep working on how to counter offensive moves, but nice timing on that pounce.” Cherrypaw's tail curled, a pleased purr escaping her.

     Brightheart's gaze swept over the apprentices. “We'll keep working on these techniques in the days ahead,” she mewed. Her mew was still subdued, a certain tightness around her eye that had been there since Whitewing's death, but there was more strength in her mew than there had been when she'd first started training Molepaw. “With leafbare on the way, however, we need to start focusing more on your hunting. We'll have to start showing you techniques for tracking prey in harsher conditions – the Clan will depend on it in the moons to come.”

     Cherrypaw's gaze flashed with alarm. “But we're already behind on battle training!” she blurted out. “How are we going to become warriors on time if we haven't mastered fighting?”

     Molepaw glanced uneasily at his sister. With five and a half moons of training behind them, and a late start at becoming apprentices to begin with, the littermates were getting more than old enough to be full warriors. Cherrypaw stood as tall as their mother now, while Molepaw had surpassed his father by a few hairs. But after the Dark Battle, the Clan had been in such disarray that training had been set aside in favor of working to get the Clan back to full strength. Molepaw and Cherrypaw had spent so much time hunting to feed the injured warriors, or fetching herbs and making poultices for Jayfeather, as well as helping rebuild the camp, that they had fallen woefully behind on their training.

     Brightheart and Foxleap shared a brief, guilty look, before turning back to their apprentices. “We've been meaning to talk to you about that,” Foxleap admitted. “We've both been talking, and we're not sure that you'll be ready even at the end of six moons of training.”

     “It's not your fault at all,” Brightheart hastened to add. “You've both been working so hard, but there's been so much to do after the Dark Battle, and now with leafbare on the way, hunting will take priority over training again. So we think it would be best to postpone your final assessments until we feel you're ready.

     Cherrypaw and Molepaw exchanged a morose glance. The news wasn’t a surprise, not really. They were nearly six moons into their training and still behind the level of the other warriors. He knew there was still a lot they both needed to learn. But it was still a blow to learn they would be delayed once more in earning their full names.

     Foxleap crossed over to the clearly-dejected Cherrypaw, nudging her shoulder with his paw. “Cheer up!” he said in an encouraging mew. “Your time will come soon. And when it does, every other Clan better watch out! You’ll both make great warriors.”

     Disappointment continued to glitter in Cherrypaw’s eyes, but there was gratitude there as well. “Thank you Foxleap,” she murmured, brushing muzzles with her mentor.

     Brightheart approached her own apprentice, touching her nose briefly to his forehead. “I know how hard it is to wait,” she told him quietly. “But I promise you that I will teach you everything you need to know. You’ll be a warrior, I swear it.”

     “Thank you, Brightheart,” Molepaw murmured. Looking at the one-eyed warrior, he felt a prick of guilt. He was only being delayed until he had received enough training. Brightheart had been forced to wait for her warrior name by a leader unfairly suspicious of her, and had only earned the horrible name Lostface after being grievously injured. It hadn’t been until after Bluestar’s death that Brightheart had received a true warrior name. And now she was working hard to train him even while grieving her daughter's death. He had no right to feel disappointed to wait after all that she’d been through.

     A part of him even wondered whether he was that disappointed. He wanted the respect and acknowledgment of being a grown cat that becoming a warrior brought. But there was still a feeling of hesitation in his heart. Was he really ready for all of the responsibility that came with being a warrior? Was he willing to have cats depending on him for safety, to face pain and blood and vicious hunger, to be expected to lay down his life at a moment’s notice? He had seen for himself the sacrifices and hardship it took to live a warrior’s life, and even after all this time, it scared him. Was he really cut out for this life?

     If Brightheart sensed any of his troubled thoughts, she didn’t give it away. She only mewed, “Come on, we should get some hunting done before we head back to camp.” She waited for the others to fall in behind her, then set off, leading her little group back into the woods.

     Bare, jagged branches stretched overhead as they walked through the forest. A carpet of dead leaves lay under their paws, a frosty wind weaving through their pelts. Leaf-fall was on its way out. Soon leafbare would be here, and all of the hunger and misery that came with it. Molepaw couldn’t help but feel apprehensive as he trudged along behind his mentor.

     The sudden crunch of leaves nearby alerted him. Fast as a snake, he whirled around, his claws catching on the leaf flying towards his head. He slapped it easily to the ground. Cherrypaw stood before him, a wicked light dancing in her eyes, and her paw already reaching for the next leaf. “Hey mopey-paws, think fast!” she hissed.

     Delight pulsed through Molepaw’s pelt. He fell into a crouch, readying himself to pounce as the next leaf was hurled his way. Cherrypaw tried to circle around to his back, but he weaved expertly to keep facing her, just like Brightheart had taught him. He sent a leaf flying her way, which she easily slapped out of the air, then she leaped at him with a playful snarl. Molepaw slipped under her outstretched paws, tripping her up with his paws and bringing her crashing down to the least ground with him.

     Their play fight dissolved into _mrrowrs_ of laughter as both cats lay on the leaf-strewn ground, shaking with laughter. A weight seemed to have been lifted from Molepaw’s shoulders. He felt like a kit again, his greatest worry only beating his sister in their latest game of Mossball or skittering dead leaves around the floor of the nursery.

     “If you two are quite finished.” Molepaw looked up to see Brightheart and Foxleap standing over them. Brightheart’s expression was trying to be stern, but the lightness in her mew gave her away, and Foxleap was purring his amusement. “We’re supposed to be hunting for the Clan,” she reminded them.

     Still purring his laughter, Molepaw rolled off of his side and pushed back onto his paws. “Sorry, Brightheart,” he mewed. Cherrypaw rose up beside him, whiskers twitching.

     The pair fell in behind their mentors as the patrol set off again. As they walked, however, Cherrypaw leaned in to whisper into Molepaw’s ear. “Don’t worry, Molepaw,” she said in an encouraging purr. “We made it through the Dark Battle - how bad can leafbare really be compared to that? It’ll all work out, you’ll see.”

     Molepaw flashed his sister a grateful look. Cherrypaw always seemed to know just what to say to cheer him up. Things might get harder during leafbare, but as long as he had his kin and his Clan beside him, he wouldn’t be facing it alone. He didn’t have to be a warrior yet, or carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, until he was ready. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.

**SCENEBREAK**

     The sun was starting to dip beneath the tree line by the time they returned to camp. Molepaw carried a plump squirrel and a pair of mice in his jaws. He and the other cats deposited their catches on the fresh-kill pile, then Molepaw set off alone for the medicine den, still holding the squirrel between his teeth.

     He was nearly inside the den when a gray face suddenly poked out, the pale muzzle inches from his own. The apprentice gave a squeak of surprise as the blind blue eyes somehow seemed to fix on him. “Oh, it’s you,” the gray tom grunted by way of greeting. “Here to visit again?”

     Molepaw dipped his head respectfully to the medicine cat, trying to hide the uneasy prickling of his pelt. “Yes, Jayfeather,” he mewed around a mouthful of squirrel.

     “Hmm.” Jayfeather gazed sightlessly at Molepaw a few moments longer. Molepaw got the uncomfortable feeling that the tom was reading his mind. _Lionblaze and Dovewing at least act like regular Clanmates, but how am I supposed to feel at ease around a cat who can read all of my thoughts?_ he wondered.

     After a few moments, however, Jayfeather turned away without comment. “Make sure she does her exercises,” he grunted as he pushed past the larger tom and padded out into the camp. Molepaw glanced back uneasily at him for a few moments, then shrugged and pushed his way into the medicine den.

     Two she-cats were laying in nests inside of the small cave. “Hello there Molepaw,” the brown she-cat purred. Briarlight pulled herself out of her nest, her hind legs dragging limply behind her. There was a friendly gleam in her eyes as she brushed muzzles with the large tom. “Come for another visit?”

     “Yeah, and I brought food this time,” Molepaw purred. He and his sister had become quite close with the paralyzed warrior after her injury. They had encouraged and supported her efforts in learning to live with her injury, and she had played with them and offered them cheer and confidence in turn. Now that he was grown, he still greatly admired the paralyzed warrior and counted her as a friend. “I caught it myself.”

     “Well done,” Briarlight mewed brightly. She glanced back at her cream denmate, then turned back to Molepaw. “It’s nice of you to offer, but I think I’ll leave you two to share that squirrel. A trip to the fresh-kill pile should give me some good exercise.” She gave a final friendly flick of her ear, then began pulling herself out of the den with her powerful front legs, leaving Molepaw alone with her denmate.

     Molepaw watched after her for a few moments with a purr, then he turned to the cream warrior curled up on the nest in the far side of the den. “Do you want to share?” he asked, pushing the squirrel towards her with one paw.

     The warrior lifted her head and turned to face him. Two amber eyes met his own. “Sure,” she mewed, splitting her jaws in a yawn. She rose to sitting, both cats falling silent as they took turns taking bites of the squirrel. After a while, however, she broke the silence with a careful mew. “How is training going?”

     Molepaw felt a pang of sympathy for the cream warrior. His gaze flicked to the long scars stretching across her flank. “Pretty well,” he answered. “We’re still behind on fighting, but I’ve been getting better at hunting. Brightheart’s promised to work on fighting more - but of course, I still miss training with you, Rosepetal.”

     For a few moments, there was a tightness around Rosepetal’s eyes. Then her gaze softened. “You don’t need to feel bad about enjoying training with Brightheart, Molepaw,” she rasped. She stretched out her injured leg, giving it a rueful glance. “It’s not your fault what happened to my leg, and it’s not your fault that I can’t keep up with your training right now. You need to focus on what’s best for you and being the best warrior you can be, not about hurting my feelings.” She gave a sheepish flick of her tail, adding, “Besides, it’s not like I was the best mentor even when you were my apprentice.”

     Molepaw flattened his ears back uncomfortably. What Rosepetal said was true. The young warrior had always seemed more concerned with hunting with her friends and joking around with the other warriors than training him. “You were fine,” he lied instead, giving the warrior an encouraging purr. But Rosepetal clearly wasn’t fooled.

     “No, I wasn’t. And I’m sorry.” She sighed, tucking her tail around her paws. “I was just... honestly, I was scared. I hadn’t been a warrior that long, and it was so much responsibility so fast, I didn’t want to face it. But it wasn’t fair to you.” She gave a small shake of her head, then blinked at him in a friendly way, giving a rusty purr. “I’m glad you got the mentor you deserve in Brightheart,” she told him. “I wasn’t the mentor I should have been to you, and you’re not my apprentice anymore, but I’ll do whatever you need to help you become the warrior you can be. I want to make up for my mistakes, and I want to help you.”

     Molepaw stared at the warrior, pricking his ears forward in surprise. In truth, he hadn’t thought of the cream warrior as his mentor in a long time, even before Brightheart was made his official mentor. But he’d been able to appreciate Rosepetal’s determination to be a great warrior, and her patience and strength while healing from her injury, much more since she’d stopped being his mentor. He felt he'd come to know her much more during his visits to the medicine den than he ever had during training.

     “Thank you, Rosepetal,” he mewed, blinking gratefully at the cream warrior. “I really appreciate that.” He hesitated before adding, “I don’t need you to be my mentor, not anymore - but I’m glad to have you as my friend.”

     Surprise lit in the warrior’s eyes. Then, a softer light glowed there. “Thank you, Molepaw,” she purred. “That means a lot.”

     Molepaw was surprised by the rush of warmth he felt at Rosepetal’s words. But he quickly pushed that thought aside - he’d come to enjoy time with a friend, not worry over strange thoughts and feelings. He pushed himself onto his paws, padding over and nudging Rosepetal with one paw. “Come on, lazypaws,” he teased. “I can help with your exercises while I’m here.”

     As the tom helped walk his Clanmate through her daily stretches for her leg, he could feel contentment rising in his chest. The idea of being a warrior was still daunting - but that was a worry for another day. For now, the evening was peaceful, the Clan was well-fed, and he was an apprentice with friends and kin standing by his side. Cherrypaw was right. As long as he held on to what he had, and remembered what he’d already endured, things would turn out just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was in the mood to do some Warriors writing today, so I wrote bits and pieces of this while waiting in line around the park. So here's the newest chapter of Molefoot's Loss. ^^ Things seem to be going well for ThunderClan... let's see how long that can last...
> 
> So yeah, I went there. :P One of my regrets with my early EOTW writing was not giving Brightheart an apprentice. She was promised one after Jayfeather changed his career path, and that promise was never fulfilled, and she deserved an apprentice so much. So I decided to use this novella to finally give her an apprentice, while at the same time making certain future events slightly less weird by nixing Rosepetal being Molepaw's mentor. Two birds with one stone. ^^ And we also get to see Molepaw using some of her special fighting moves. :D I always wanted to see those techniques passed down.
> 
> Whitewing's death is mentioned elsewhere in EOTW, and I figured it would effect Brightheart's decision to push to mentor Molepaw. Whitewing was led to StarClan by her former denmate and friend Shrewpaw.
> 
> I feel like I had more to say about this chapter, but I can't remember it right now. :P Oh well. I'm having tons of fun in Disney, and there's literally fireworks flying up over Cinderella's castle which I can see from my window as I type this, and I'm just glad I got this written up and can get it posted before getting back to fun times in the parks. :D See you all when I have time for the next chapter.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As leafbare claims the forest...

Warriors Series 5.5: Echoes of the War  
Novella 6: Molefoot's Loss  
Chapter Four

     “No! Oh StarClan, no!”

     Molepaw jerked awake, instantly alert at the horrified wailing of his Clanmate. His three denmates were already awake. All of them had their ears pricked towards the camp. Cherrypaw cast a worried glance towards her brother, and the two new apprentices had their pelts fluffed out in alarm.

     Dread clutching at his heart, the tom rose slowly to his paws and began padding towards the den's entrance, Cherrypaw following behind him. Cats were already gathering in loose groups around the camp by the time he made it outside, all of them looking mournfully towards the elder's den. He approached a cluster of warriors including his parents and Brightheart, asking in a hushed mew, “What happened?”

     “Purdy died last night,” Poppyfrost murmured back. Molepaw stiffened, and a gasp escaped Cherrypaw. “Jayfeather thinks it was greencough.” Berrynose said nothing, only touching his nose to Molepaw's cheek in a comforting gesture. Even his brash father seemed stunned into silence by the news.

     “I didn't hear anything about him having greencough,” Cherrypaw protested. Molepaw said nothing. He couldn't process what he was hearing. The elder had been just fine the last time he'd seen him. Purdy could be a bit long-winded at times, but he was a good sort of cat, and a loved and respected Clanmate. Leafbare had been hard so far, and every cat was hungry, but he'd never really thought they'd lose any cat just to hunger. How could Purdy be gone just like that?

     Birchfall shook his head. “He was sniffling a bit yesterday, but Jayfeather didn't tell anyone how bad it was.”

     “He was so old, and he's been thin since leafbare started,” Brightheart explained. “It must have taken him quickly.” She sighed, glancing down at her apprentice. “I'm sure you'll want to say your goodbyes to Purdy, but the Clan still needs to be fed. Go get something to eat, then we'll be heading out to get some hunting done. Cherrypaw, Foxleap has work for you too, you better go find him.”

     Molepaw nodded, still in a stunned haze, and Cherrypaw mewed her assent. Brightheart touched her nose to his ear, giving a small, encouraging mew, and his parents blinked warmly at him. He could feel the comforting touch of his sister's pelt against his own. As Cherrypaw headed towards the warriors' den, Molepaw turned away and began padding towards the fresh-kill pile. Hunger clawed at his gut – there were only a few scrawny mice on the pile, and he would be lucky to get an evening meal to follow it up. As he began picking through the assorted prey, a mew sounded behind him. “Molepaw.”

     He turned to see a familiar cream warrior standing behind him. “Rosepetal,” he greeted in a solemn mew. Though his mind still swam with confusion, and his heart was weighed down with grief, something in his chest lightened at the sight of the she-cat. He pressed his muzzle against her cheek with a soft purr. “Want to share a meal?”

     “Not this morning, sorry,” she murmured. “I promised Spiderleg I'd join his hunting patrol. I just wanted to say goodbye before I left.” Though the scars were still visible on her flank, she stood strong on all four paws now, and she had returned to her warrior duties some time ago. As she looked at Molepaw, something darkened in her gaze. “I heard about Purdy,” she continued. “I can't believe he's gone – he's been with the Clan since I was a kit, and Bramblestar and the others knew him long before that.”

     Grief twisted in Molepaw's heart. “I know,” he murmured. He touched his nose briefly to Rosepetal's ear, mewing, “But at least we know that StarClan will welcome him.”

     Rosepetal's whiskers twitched. “I bet he's already up there with Mousefur and Longtail, talking the ears off of any cat who stops to listen to his stories,” she joked. Though a solemn light still glowed in her eyes, there was warmth there now as well. She touched her nose to Molepaw's cheek, then stepped back, giving a brisk lash of her tail. “Well, I should get going. Spiderleg will be waiting for me.”

     Molepaw purred, “Alright. Have a good hunt – and be careful out there. Don't push yourself too hard.”

     An amused purr escaped the cream warrior. “Don't fuss, Molepaw,” she mewed, blinking softly at him. “Jayfeather already said I can keep to my warrior duties for at least another quarter moon.” A mischievous light sparked in her eyes as she added, “And I'm hardly the first expecting queen to go for a bit of a hunt.”

     Joy flooded through every hair on Molepaw's pelt. He gave his mate a gentle lick on the cheek, then watched as she turned and padded away, a purr rumbling in his throat.

     Six moons had passed since the Dark Battle. The forest was in the cruel grip of leafbare, and times were hard for every Clan. Molepaw and Cherrypaw had taken their warrior assessment some time ago, but both cats had failed due to their hunger and exhaustion from over-hunting. It was frustrating beyond belief to still be apprentices so many moons later – especially now that Molepaw was an expecting father.

     He and Rosepetal had only grown closer in the moons since her injury. What had been friendship and admiration had deepened into a love unlike anything Molepaw had felt before. Two moons ago, he'd finally admitted his feelings to Rosepetal, and she had admitted feeling the same in turn. And now, only two moons after becoming mates, Rosepetal was expecting his kits.

     Though he acted light-hearted around his mate, the truth was that the news filled him with both joy and terror. The forest would still be in the midst of leafbare when his kits were born – how would they be able to keep them safe and fed during such a harsh season? What if they were lost to hunger or sickness, just like Purdy? What if he wasn't cut out to be a father? He couldn't even become a warrior after so many moons – how could he handle the responsibility of raising kits if he couldn't even leave the apprentices' den behind? But even as fear filled him, the love he already felt for his kits was stronger than anything he'd ever known before. _I don't know whether I'm ready for this,_ he thought as he quickly scarfed down a mouse. _But I will do the best I can for you when you arrive, my little ones, and you will be loved. Always._

     Once he'd finished eating, Molepaw joined Brightheart by the camp's entrance. Icecloud stood with her, as well as Toadstep and his new apprentice Seedpaw. Sorreltail's kits had been promoted to apprentices some days ago. Though Seedpaw was a new apprentice, there was a calmness in her gaze that told Molepaw she already took her training seriously. Once Molepaw joined them, Brightheart led the patrol off into the forest.

     Snow and ice clung to Molepaw’s pelt as the patrol trekked through the forest. The first snows of leafbare had fallen a moon ago, and had held the forest in an icy grip ever since. All of the prey seemed to have fled the cold weather. Molepaw couldn’t catch so much as a whiff of prey, and Toadstep's brief chase after a rustling sound only ended in finding a loose branch waving in the wind. Exhaustion dragged at Molepaw's pelt like a weight – it felt like it had been moons since he'd really eaten well. But he had to keep hunting, had to keep working for his Clan, for every cat's sake. _And for my kits._

     “Alright,” Brightheart finally mewed, bringing the patrol to a halt. “We’ll cover more ground if we split up. Molepaw, stay with Icecloud, and Seedpaw, go with your mentor. I’ll stay around here and see what I can find.” Cats murmured their agreement and began splitting off into their groups. Molepaw followed behind Icecloud as she led him off into the snow.

     The wind began to pick up as the pair traveled through the snowy woods. As they passed a thick cluster of snow-dusted beech trees, Icecloud joked, “I know it makes hunting harder, but I’m glad the snow’s sticking around. It’s the one time I actually have a chance of sneaking up on my prey.” There was a weary set to the she-cat's expression, and her pelt clung too tightly to her bones, but there was still a merry light in her eyes.

     Molepaw’s whiskers twitched. “I’m just glad I have this thick pelt,” he said, forcing out a purr despite the hunger gnawing at his belly. “I was about ready to tear it all out in greenleaf, but it’s pretty useful now.”

     A playful light glowed in Icecloud’s eyes. “Maybe those kits of yours will have that coat too.” Molepaw stiffened, starting at his Clanmate in shock. “Oh, don’t look so surprised,” she teased. “Most cats know already. It’s not like you can keep a secret in this Clan.”

     “Apparently not,” Molepaw mewed, still surprised. “We... we just didn’t want to cause a fuss. And we didn’t want to make cats worry. I know it’s not ideal for kits to be born in leafbare, and we’re still recovering from the Dark Battle...”

     The teasing light died from Icecloud’s eyes, and she gave his shoulder a nudge. “Don’t worry,” she said in an encouraging mew. “Rosepetal’s a tough cat. Your kits will have a good chance with the two of you looking after them.”

      Warmth flooded Molepaw’s chest at the thought of his mate. “Yeah, she is tough,” he murmured.

     Icecloud’s whiskers twitched. “You’ll be fine. You’re both fine warriors,” she mewed. At Molepaw’s look, she continued, “I know you don’t have your name yet, but from what my brother tells me, you and Cherrypaw work as hard as any warriors. And your kits will have the whole Clan to support them as well as the pair of you. New kits are a blessing no matter the season - and come newleaf, you’ll wonder what you were so worried for.”

     Molepaw gave a strained purr of thanks. He wished he could share Icecloud’s optimism, but he still felt a twinge of fear in his gut. But before he could speak again, Icecloud suddenly froze. One ear flicked forward. “There,” she hissed.

     Molepaw followed her gaze. A few fox-lengths away, behind a clump of snowy ferns, a brambling was pecking at the snow in search of food. The tom fell immediately into a hunting crouch. A quick glance between the Clanmates was enough to communicate their plan.

     While Molepaw stayed concealed behind the ferns, Icecloud slowly began to circle around the bird, keeping her distance and staying low. The white warrior blended in seamlessly with the snowy forest floor. The brambling continued scavenging for food, completely unaware of the she-cat coming up on its other side. At Icecloud’s signal, Molepaw sprinted out of the ferns and lunged at the bird with a snarl. The brambling gave an alarmed cry and quickly took to the air - but Icecloud was waiting for it. She sprang up from the snow, the brambling practically flying into her claws in its confusion. The warrior wrestled the bird under her and landed back on the snow, her prey struggling under her paws. A quick nip to its neck silenced the bird.

     “Well done!” Molepaw called. He padded towards his Clanmate, tail curled with pleasure behind him. At least they wouldn’t be going back to camp with empty jaws.

      A raspy cough was the only reply. Molepaw stiffened. He circled around to face Icecloud, concern flooding his chest as he took in her pained expression. Another cough forced its way from her throat as she crouched against the snow. “Are you okay?” he asked.

     “I’m fine,” the she-cat rasped. She shook out her pelt, protesting, “It’s just a tickle in my throat, I’ll be fi-“ before another round of coughing cut her off.

      Alarm sparked through Molepaw’s pelt. “Here, come on, let’s get you back to camp,” he mewed. He came to stand beside the smaller she-cat, allowing her to lean her weight against him.

     “But what about the bird?” Icecloud protested. Fear clutched at Molepaw’s heart at how weak her mew had become.

     “I'll get it.” The tom leaned down to grasp the bird between his teeth, then he straightened, supporting Icecloud's weight against his side as he set off at a slow pace towards the camp.

     Their walk carried them past Brightheart's hunting area, and it wasn't long before they came across the one-eyed queen. She was in the middle of burying a scrawny shrew when she spotted the pair. “Molepaw? What are you doing back so soon?” Her eye grew dark with concern as she looked over her Clanmates. “What's wrong?”

     “Icecloud isn't feeling well,” Molepaw explained, dropping the brambling at his paws. The she-cat seemed overcome with exhaustion after the effort of hunting, too out of breath to offer any comment herself. Molepaw tried not to feel too worried about how suddenly weak she seemed. “I'm taking her back to camp.”

     A serious light glowed in Brightheart's eye. “Good idea,” she mewed. With a deft paw, she scooped the brambling away from Molepaw, mewing, “I'll take care of this. Get her to Jayfeather quickly – I'll make sure the rest of the patrol gets home once the hunting's done.” Molepaw dipped his head to his mentor, then began leading Icecloud away towards the camp.

     Cats were readying the camp for Purdy's vigil when they arrived. Some cat had arranged the elder's body in the center of camp, and the rest of the elders were crouched nearby, already murmuring goodbyes to their denmate. The tabby seemed so scrawny and small in death – Molepaw tried not to look for too long. He focused on leading Icecloud towards the medicine den.

     Jayfeather was in the back of the den sorting herbs when they pushed their way in, and Briarlight was eating a shrew in her nest. She looked up as the pair entered the den. “Hello, you two,” she purred in greeting. Her gaze grew serious as another cough escaped Icecloud. “Are you alright?”

     Before Molepaw could respond, a brisk mew cut him off. “Bring her over here, now.” Jayfeather hadn't looked up when they'd entered the den, but the moment Icecloud had coughed, his head had shot up. His sightless gaze was now turned towards the white warrior, his ears pricked and pointed her way. Molepaw obediently led Icecloud towards the small tabby, settling her onto a nest nearby. The white warrior slumped gracelessly onto the mossy pile.

     Jayfeather immediately started sniffing Icecloud all over, running a paw over her back and sides. After a moment's pause, he called out sharply to Briarlight, “Get me some catmint!” The she-cat hurried to her task, dragging herself over to the herb stores and sorting through the leaves with one paw.

      _Catmint?_ Molepaw stiffened in horror. As far as he knew, catmint was only used to treat greencough. He watched in a haze of fear as Briarlight brought some leaves to Jayfeather, and the tom began sorting through the leaves with one paw. The medicine cat murmured something to Briarlight, who turned to Molepaw. “We'd better leave him to it,” she mewed softly. “Come on, let's get out for some air.” Molepaw stared after Icecloud for a moment longer, then turned away, allowing Briarlight to lead him out of the medicine den.

     As soon as they were out of the den, he blurted out, “Has Icecloud got greencough?” He kept his mew low so as not to alarm his Clanmates, but he couldn't hold the question in. Terror was pulsing through his pelt. _First Purdy, and now this?_

     Briarlight shook her head. “No, she has whitecough,” she told the tom. Though her tone was even, there was a grim light in her eyes, something that warned Molepaw of darker tidings.

     “Well, that's better, isn't it?” he mewed hopefully. “I mean, whitecough's easier to treat, isn't it?”

     The paralyzed warrior sighed. “It is, normally,” she mewed. “But our stores of catmint have been low since the battle – a lot of the leaves got trampled in the fight. Whitecough can easily turn into greencough. Purdy got sick so quickly, and now Icecloud's sick...” She lifted her head to meet Molepaw's gaze, a somber light in her blue eyes. “This kind of sickness can spread quickly,” she told him. “And if that happens this time, we might not have all the herbs we need to fight it.”

     Icy claws clutched at Molepaw's heart. “Great StarClan...” he breathed. Horror washed over him as his mind played over the consequences of Briarlight's words. He could all too easily imagine greencough raging through his Clan like a wildfire, claiming lives quickly and cruelly, only growing stronger without any herbs to fight it. Terror blazed through his pelt at the thought of the sickness reaching his own family. _Oh StarClan, don't let my kits be taken from me before I even get to meet them,_ he prayed silently. _How can I protect them from this?_

     Briarlight watched Molepaw a moment longer before turning away with a sigh. “Get back to your hunting, Molepaw,” she murmured. “Leave Icecloud to us. Don't say anything to worry the Clan too much, and try not to worry too much yourself. This could still turn out to just be one case of whitecough.”

     As he started to turn away, she added, “But Molepaw – be careful. I fear this will be a hard season for our Clan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I was in the mood to write again, so here you go. XD
> 
> I know it's a stretch for Molepaw and Cherrypaw to be held back from becoming warriors for so long, but I wrote myself into this corner at the very start of writing EOTW with some of the stuff that happened early in Faded Boundaries, so I had to make it work somehow. It's kinda weird having Molepaw be an expecting father while still being an apprentice, but he's far over the age of being a full adult warrior, so it's not like he's underage, he just hasn't been promoted to full warriorhood. And Rosepetal wasn't his mentor anymore when they became mates, so I hope that's also not as weird as it could have been. I'd totally forgotten that she was his mentor (and half-aunt) when I made them mates, so I tried to make it as un-awkward as possible here. I hope I succeeded.
> 
> We also get to see some hints of greencough in the Clan, and we get to hear of Purdy's passing. Purdy was led to StarClan by Mousefur, of course, and is quite content in StarClan.
> 
> It was nice getting to feature Briarlight some more here, and Icecloud, who I haven't written much before either. ^^ Even though it's mostly the same cast as EOTW, it's nice getting to work with characters I haven't worked with as much before.
> 
> Also, I don't really want to sound like I'm begging for anything, but it would be nice to get some feedback on this story. I myself am super bad at commenting on stuff that I read, so I have zero room to say anything, it would just help to hear thoughts on this novella, especially to give me a good idea of how many people are interested in me continuing these novellas, and what they like and want to see more of about them. I have many more EOTW novellas planned, so it would be nice to know whether there's still an audience for them before going into writing all of them. Thank you to those who have commented, and to those who have read and supported my work in whatever form. :)


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only half a moon later...

Warriors Series 5.5: Echoes of the War  
Novella 6: Molefoot's Loss  
Chapter Five

     Molepaw dropped the vole in front of the gray queen. “Here,” he said in a soft mew. “Jayfeather told me to bring you this.”

     Cinderheart blinked dully at the tom. “Thank you,” she rasped, but she made no move to start eating the vole. Her eyes were glazed over with grief.

     Two tiny bundles of fur lay suckling at Cinderheart’s belly. Blazekit had a pale ginger coat similar to Sandstorm’s, while Silentkit was black with a white stripe running from her nose to her forehead. Neither kit had inherited the thick pelts of their parents, but Molepaw thought he could already see Lionblaze’s strength in Silentkit, and Cinderheart’s sleek build in Blazekit.

     His heart twisted with grief at the memory of the kit who should have been suckling with them. Little Lichenkit has always been the weakest of Cinderheart’s kits, and had died mere days after being born. Both Cinderheart and Lionblaze had been devastated, and the entire Clan seem subdued by the blow of such a young death. Even the gruff Jayfeather had seemed badly shaken by the death of his young kin. And now Cinderheart barely seemed to be eating.

     From further back in the den, Rosepetal called out, “Come on, Cinderheart, you have to eat.” The cream queen rose from her nest, approaching Cinderheart and briefly touching her nose to the tabby’s head. “Silentkit and Blazekit still need you. You need to keep your strength up.” Cinderheart said nothing, only staring bleakly at her denmate.

     “She’s right,” Molepaw said in a gentle mew. “You have to eat so you can keep feeding them.”

     Cinderheart stared at the pair for a few more moments, then lowered her muzzle to sniff at the vole. Slowly, she dragged the vole closer to her with one paw and began taking slow, morose bites.

     Rosepetal sighed. “Thank StarClan,” she murmured as she and Molepaw headed back to her nest. “I wasn’t sure she was going to eat for a moment there.”

     “I can’t even imagine what she’s going through,” Molepaw mewed. Cold fear clutched at his heart. He brushed his tail against Rosepetal’s side, still barely showing signs of the kits she carried. “It must be so hard...”

     His own fear was echoed in Rosepetal’s eyes. She touched her nose to his cheek, her pelt pressed against his in a silent gesture of comfort. He closed his eyes, leaning into the embrace of his mate, trying to steady the fear in his heart. “Come on,” Rosepetal murmured. “I got a bird for us to share.”

     The mates settled side by side onto Rosepetal’s nest. Cinderheart stayed alone in her nest, though Molepaw suspected she would be joined by Lionblaze the moment he was back in camp. The third nest was empty - Hazeltail was out hunting. A scrawny bird lay waiting in Rosepetal’s nest. With low spirits, the pair began sharing the bird between them. In only a few bites the bird was gone, and hunger still clawed at Molepaw’s bones. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been free of the pain of hunger.

     “Are you going to visit her?” Rosepetal asked once their meal was done.

     Molepaw nodded. “Jayfeather said I could come back once the next patrols left. They should be gone by now.” Already his paws were itching to carry him away to the medicine den.

     Rosepetal touched her nose to the tom’s cheek, murmuring a brief, “Good luck,” to the tom. Molepaw leaned into her touch for a moment, then rose unsteadily to his paws, trudging towards the den's entrance.

     The camp was deathly silent as Molepaw stepped out of the den. Most cats were out hunting, and those who weren't were sitting around with eyes glazed with hunger and grief. Half a moon had passed since Purdy's death, and just as Briarlight had feared, greencough had spread through the whole camp. Icecloud's whitecough had progressed to greencough, and she had been quickly followed by Birchfall and Mousewhisker, with Sorreltail and Daisy currently suffering from whitecough. Despair clawed at Molepaw's heart. All of the hope he’d felt for better times during leaf-fall had vanished completely. Now all that was left was a horrible numbness to loss after loss, and the terror that still managed to break through as each new cat fell sick. Things had gotten bad so quickly, and Jayfeather had already run out of catmint. And there was one cat that Molepaw feared for most of all.

     Jayfeather was sorting leaves in the back when Molepaw pushed his way into the den. His heart panged with loss at the sight of Briarlight's empty nest – the brave she-cat had died defending the nursery from a fox that broke into camp while most of the healthy warriors were out hunting. But the sight of a ginger lump curled up on another nest soon drove any thoughts of Briarlight from his mind.

     “Hey.” He approached the ginger tabby, before a short snarl from Jayfeather halted him. The medicine cat had decreed that no cats were to come within touching distance of those affected by greencough. His pelt ached to get closer and comfort the tabby, but he knew he couldn't. “How are you doing?”

     Cherrypaw lifted her muzzle to face him, forcing a rasping purr. “Never better,” she joked. Though her words were light, there was a pained set to her expression, and her mew was so weak that he could hardly hear it. A chill crept through Molepaw at the sight of his sister. Her nose and eyes were streaming, and her fur clung eerily close to her bones, a glassy glaze to her eyes. The stench of sickness rolled off of the she-cat in waves.

     His sister had started coughing a few days after Icecloud, and had been confined to the medicine den with whitecough soon after. Greencough had followed after that. While many of the sick cats had been set up in various smaller caves around the stone clearing, Jayfeather had decided to keep a close eye on some of the sickest cats in his den. Dustpelt and Graystripe had been the first to die, and Icecloud had left an empty nest behind her soon after. Now only Cherrypaw was left staying in Jayfeather's den. Terror shot through every hair on Molepaw's pelt at the thought of what that meant for his sister.

     “How is Rosepetal?” Cherrypaw rasped. “Are the kits doing well?” Even as sick as she was, she was still as concerned as ever for her brother and her family – and now that included Rosepetal. Molepaw's heart ached with love for his stubborn, caring sister, now such a husk of who she used to be, but still so full of love.

     “She's fine,” he assured her. “And the kits are kicking as much as ever, so they're fine too. Jayfeather says there's at least two, maybe three in there.” Love surged in his heart, filling him up to the tips of his pelt. Even with his family, even with Rosepetal, he had never felt a love like this before. “I can't wait to meet them,” he breathed. “I want to see how wonderful they are.”

     Joy glowed in Cherrypaw's eyes, glassy and bleary as they were. “They'll be just as wonderful as you are, I know it,” she said in a hoarse purr. Her whiskers twitched. “They'll have your heart, Rosepetal's strength – and my good looks and flawless hunting skill.”

     Molepaw gave a strained purr at his sister's joke, but he could find no words to respond with. All he could do was stare at his wonderful, loving sister and feel the fear of losing her.

     “Hey.” The siblings turned to look at the den's entrance. A familiar tortoiseshell and cream tom were lingering there, the tips of their pelts outlined by sunlight. “How are you doing, Cherrypaw?” Poppyfrost asked in a strained mew. A scrawny squirrel hung from Berrynose's jaws.

     A weak purr rumbled in Cherrypaw's throat. “Oh, as well as any cat who's stuck with that grumpy old badger all day can be,” she joked, flicking her tail towards Jayfeather, who was still sorting herbs in the back of the den. His only response was a ill-tempered snort. Poppyfrost and Berrynose padded into the den, settling in beside Molepaw at a distance from their daughter.

     Berrynose dropped his squirrel, nudging it closer to Cherrypaw. “We brought this for you,” he rasped. “We know squirrel is your favorite.” Though he was clearly trying to cover it up, fear was blazing in the tom's eyes, his stumpy tail trembling behind him. He shifted his gaze to Jayfeather, his mew growing sharper as he asked the medicine cat, “This moss in her nest looks old – why haven't you replaced it yet? You're supposed to be taking care of her!”

     “Not now, dear,” Poppyfrost murmured. She pressed her muzzle against Berrynose's neck in a comforting gesture. The same fear glowed in her eyes, but there was strength in her mew as she told Berrynose, “Jayfeather's doing the best that he can.” The medicine cat himself said nothing, focusing stubbornly on his herbs. Molepaw thought he could sense frustration in the bristling of his pelt – not with Berrynose, he guessed, but with the lack of herbs and his inability to help.

     “It's clearly not enough,” Berrynose snapped. His tone was harsh, but Molepaw could see the terror bristling in his pelt, and he knew the tom's words were only meant to mask his fear. “Our daughter is sick, and you're just sitting there - !”

     Molepaw cast his father a sharp glance. “Father, that's enough,” he said in a low mew. Something in him softened when Berrynose turned his gaze, raw with fear, onto him. He reached out his tail, brushing the tip comfortingly against his father's flank, wishing he could offer better comfort.

     Unease was glowing in Cherrypaw's eyes at her father's anger. When Berrynose looked at her, Molepaw could see he immediately regretted his rash words. Before he could apologize, however, the ginger tabby joked, “I don't think clean moss or dirty moss is going to make much of a difference at this point.” Though her words were light, there was something flat about her tone.

     Something crumpled in Berrynose's expression. “Oh Cherrypaw,” he breathed. He started to reach for his daughter with one paw, but a cough from Cherrypaw stopped him. The tom was reduced to staring uselessly at his daughter, fear and guilt and love all blazing together at once in his eyes.

     Poppyfrost pressed against Berrynose's side, a shudder running through her pelt. After a moment, she turned her amber gaze on her son. “Molepaw, Squirrelflight asked us to fetch you,” she murmured. Molepaw started in surprise. “She said something about needing you for a patrol.”

     Molepaw's brow furrowed. He wasn't due for another patrol until sunhigh. But after a moment, he rose obediently to his paws. “I'll be back later,” he mewed to Cherrypaw, who gave a small nod in response. As Poppyfrost and Berrynose began chatting quietly with their daughter, Molepaw turned and padded away, soon leaving the medicine den behind.

     He was surprised to see Squirrelflight and Bramblestar standing together with a small gathering of cats at the camp's entrance. When she noticed him, Squirrelflight waved him over with her bushy tail. “Good, you're here,” she mewed as Molepaw approached. “Then you can all get going.”

     “Going where?” Molepaw asked, puzzled. Brightheart was waiting in front of her leader, giving a small nod to her apprentice as he came to stand beside her. Blossomfall was there too, and Bramblestar's new apprentice, Lilypaw. There was a dull glaze of grief in Blossomfall's eyes – Molepaw knew she still mourned for Briarlight, and for Graystripe.

     Bramblestar answered in his deep, rumbling mew. “To ShadowClan's camp.” Molepaw stared at his leader in shock. “Jayfeather and Leafpool have searched every part of our territory for more catmint, but they assure me that there is none to be found. Even Dovewing cannot find catmint within our borders. So now we must turn to the other Clans for help.”

     “Are we sure that they'll be willing to give us anything?” Brightheart asked. “Dovewing mentioned that there is greencough in the other Clans – they will want those herbs to heal their own cats.”

     The leader shook his head. “We can't be sure of anything,” he rumbled. “But we must try. If we can't find herbs in our own territory, the only choices we have left are asking our fellow Clans for help, or searching outside of Clan territory. I would rather avoid sending a patrol to search aimlessly through unknown territory if I can. So for now, we will be sending patrols to all of the other camps.”

     “I'm leading a patrol to WindClan, and Brackenfur will be taking a patrol into RiverClan territory later in the day,” Squirrelflight explained. “Bramblestar will be leading your patrol to ShadowClan. Blackstar can be proud, but he seems to have grown more sympathetic to the other Clans in his old age. With any luck, you will be able to persuade him to lend ThunderClan some herbs.”

     Bramblestar drew himself up proudly. “The Dark Battle may be over,” he rumbled. “But the loyalty we showed then to the other Clans still stands, and has always stood. Each Clan relies on the other when we most need it. I have hope that the other leaders will remember this – for we would help them if they had need of it, just as we hope they will help us.”

      Molepaw and Brightheart exchanged a brief glance. The apprentice wasn’t sure that he shared his leader’s optimism, but hope was beginning to creep into his heart, the first hope he had felt all leafbare. Maybe there was a chance to get herbs for his sister after all. Determination flooded through his pelt, and new strength surged to his limbs. If there was any chance it would work, they had to try. Cherrypaw would do the same for him. This was the best chance he had of saving his sister.

     With a mighty lash of his tail, Bramblestar signaled the patrol to fall in behind him, then he began leading them through the thorn tunnel and out of camp. Molepaw padded beside his mentor, Blossomfall taking up the rear and Lilypaw walking beside Bramblestar. Molepaw could see fear in the bristling of Lilypaw’s pelt, especially as they neared the ShadowClan border.

     “Don’t worry,” Bramblestar murmured to his young apprentice as they passed over the border. “We’re here to speak with their leader, not looking for a fight. Just stay close to me. If you have to, remember those defensive swipes and rolls I taught you.” Fear still glowed in Lilypaw’s eyes, but she gave her mentor a small nod.

     Not long after crossing the border, the patrol was suddenly surrounding by bristling warriors. Molepaw kept a wary eye on the white she-cat glaring him down with a bristling tail, and Bramblestar had swept Lilypaw behind him, shielding the smaller cat from two snarling brown cats with his massive frame.

     “Bramblestar?” Molepaw turned to see a familiar tortoiseshell approaching his leader. Though her tone was even, there was a certain spark of warmth in her eyes as she regarded her brother. “What are you doing here?”

     Bramblestar dipped his head to his sister. “Greetings, Tawnypelt,” he rumbled. “We have come to speak to Blackstar.” Tawnypelt twitched an ear in surprise, and a brief mew sounded from the brown she-cat. “It’s an important matter.”

     Before Tawnypelt could reply, the white she-cat cut her off with a snarl. “ThunderClan has no business in these woods!” she spat, arching her back and bristling. “Chase them out! We have our own Clan to worry about!” Underneath her anger, Molepaw thought he detected a note of fear. A quick glance at the ShadowClan cats showed that they were just as skinny and ill-fed as his own Clanmates. His heart sank. Would these starving, suspicious warriors be willing to give his Clan any help?

     Tawnypelt glared impatiently at her Clanmate. “Cool it, Snowbird,” she snorted. “Bramblestar’s here to speak with our leader, not steal prey from our Clanmates’ mouths.” She turned back to her brother, mewing, “We’ll take you to our camp.” There was a snort from Snowbird’s direction, but otherwise no one objected, though some of the warriors exchanged uncertain glances.

     With a brisk swish of her tail, Tawnypelt went to the head of the patrol and began leading them through the snowy forest. The ShadowClan warriors stayed on either side of the ThunderClan patrol, pinning them in on all sides. Molepaw couldn’t fight a ripple of unease as the enemy warriors closed in around him and his Clanmates, but he forced himself to keep his pelt smooth. They couldn’t afford to do anything to antagonize these cats. Not if they were going to get the herbs they needed.

     The tortoiseshell soon led them into a dip beneath the pine trees. Molepaw had seen both WindClan and RiverClan's camps during the Dark Battle, but he'd never been to ShadowClan's camp before. He let his gaze travel curiously around the camp, taking in the bramble thickets that seemed to form dens, the pine needles scattered across the snowy floor rather than leaves, the branches hanging over the camp and concealing it from view from the outside. It wasn't as secure and closed-in as ThunderClan's stone hollow, but Molepaw could sense a certain comfort in the woven walls of the dens and the shelter that the surrounding trees offered. Cats were milling around the camp with the same hopeless air of the ThunderClan warriors. Their conversation fell silent as the ThunderClan cats were brought into the camp.

     Tawnypelt approached a ginger tom sitting by the base of a large hazel tree. Molepaw recognized him as Rowanclaw, the ShadowClan deputy, as well as Tawnypelt's mate. The couple approached the ThunderClan cats, Rowanclaw coming to a halt in front of Bramblestar. “Greetings, Bramblestar,” he said in a cool mew. Despite his strong tone, Molepaw could see how his ragged pelt hung loose on his frame, and the exhaustion in every line on his face. “What brings you to our camp?”

     “I was hoping to discuss that with Blackstar,” Bramblestar rumbled. “May I speak with him?”

     Rowanclaw and Tawnypelt exchanged an uneasy glance. From a nearby den, a brown head poked out, ears pricked curiously. _Twigclaw,_ Molepaw realized, recognizing the medicine cat apprentice as he came to stand beside his leader. _But where is Littlecloud?_

     After a moment, Rowanclaw turned his attention back to Bramblestar. “Blackstar is dead,” he admitted in an even tone. Bramblestar stiffened, shock glowing in his eyes, and Lilypaw let out a surprised mew. Molepaw could feel his own pelt bristling out in shock. “I am ShadowClan's leader now,” Rowanclaw continued. “If you've come to speak with our leader, speak with me.”

     Bramblestar still seemed thrown by the news of Blackstar's death, but after a few moments, he regained his footing. “Very well, Rowanstar,” he rumbled, greeting his fellow leader by his new name. “We have come to ask if your Clan has any catmint to spare. There is greencough in our camp, and our own supply has run out.” Though he was admitting his Clan's weakness, there was still pride in his gaze, and Molepaw noticed he didn't admit how dire the situation in ThunderClan's camp was. Frustration sparked through his pelt. Even now, among allies, they couldn't fully trust one another.

     Something hardened in Rowanstar's expression. “I'm sorry to hear of your Clan's suffering,” he said in a clipped mew. “But we can spare no herbs for ThunderClan.” He lashed his tail, ordering, “You'll have to go.”

     Bramblestar dipped his head, his tone more pressing as he mewed, “I do not ask this lightly. But I must ask this of you. ThunderClan's need is great – please reconsider.”

     “I'm telling you, there are no herbs for you here,” Rowanstar snapped. “Now get out!” He seemed ready to snap again, but a fierce bout of nearby coughing broke him off. Molepaw looked up in surprise, noting that the sound had come from the den Twigclaw had come from – presumably the medicine den. Then he remembered what Brightheart had said about sickness in the other Clans.

    Bramblestar seemed to have remembered it too, judging by the sympathetic glow in his eyes. “I understand that ShadowClan is facing sickness as well,” he rumbled. Rowanstar bristled, but didn’t contradict him. “We don’t wish to condemn your cats to sickness. All we want is anything that you can spare, just enough to let us regrow our own stocks.”

     “There aren't any herbs left,” Twigclaw admitted in a flat mew.

     Rowanstar turned a glare on the medicine cat. “Twigclaw, that's enough!” he hissed. His gaze flitted to the ThunderClan cats, worry sparking in his eyes. Clearly he didn't want Twigclaw giving away his Clan's weakness.

     “What does it matter?” Twigclaw demanded. There was a dark look in his eyes, a defeated set to his ears and tail as he continued, “We've already lost our leader, and now my mentor is dead, killed by the same disease he fought so hard to cure.” Mews of shock rose from the ThunderClan patrol. “We don't have any catmint here either. Do you think I would have let my mentor die if there had been any way I could have helped him?” After a moment, the fight died from his eyes, and his mew turned dull with grief again. “These cats deserve to know why we can't help them. It's what Littlecloud would have wanted.” Though Rowanstar still seemed annoyed by his medicine cat's outburst, there was clear sympathy glowing in his eyes, and a shared grief.

     Desperation welled up in Molepaw's heart. “But we have to find some way to cure this,” he blurted out. “My sister is sick!” Bramblestar cast him a sharp glance, and Brightheart flicked her tail against his pelt to remind him to keep quiet, but Molepaw hardly cared. He stared desperately at the new ShadowClan medicine cat, hoping beyond hope that somehow, some way, he would be able to give the answer Molepaw needed.

     There was sympathy in Twigclaw's expression, but to Molepaw's horror, he only shook his head. “I would help you if I could,” he murmured. “But I can't give you herbs that I don't have. I'm sorry.” Molepaw stared at the tom, feeling something in his heart shatter at his words.

     Rowanstar's expression was no longer so hard, but there was a certain grimness there, almost a look of defeat as he faced the ThunderClan leader. “We are sympathetic to ThunderClan's situation,” he rumbled. “But ShadowClan can offer you no aid. It would be best if you left now.”

     Bramblestar hesitated for a moment longer. Then defeat glowed in his eyes. “Very well,” he said. “Thank you for hearing us out. May StarClan light your path – and the path of your sick cats.”

     “And may they light yours,” Rowanstar answered, giving a respectful dip of his head.

     Twigclaw said nothing, only turning and padding away, quickly returning to the medicine den, and his patients there. Tawnypelt came to Bramblestar's side, giving a brief flick of her tail against his pelt. “Come on,” she murmured. “I'll walk you back to your territory.”

**SCENEBREAK**

     The walk back to ThunderClan's territory was passed in grim silence. No cat seemed to want to speak about what had just happened. They all knew what this defeat could mean for their sick Clanmates. Molepaw felt nearly sick with fear, and each step closer to camp only made it feel worse. How could he face his parents and tell them that their only hope for their daughter was gone?

     Tawnypelt left them once they passed over the border, and Bramblestar took the lead as they headed back towards their camp. Just before reaching the camp, however, he halted his patrol. “Brightheart, take them to camp and tell Squirrelflight what has happened,” he ordered. “Molepaw, come with me. There's something I want to talk to you about.”

     For a moment, surprise drew Molepaw out of his haze of fear. He was rarely asked to speak alone with his leader. Once Brightheart led the patrol away, Bramblestar sat, facing the apprentice. Molepaw followed his lead and sat as well. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked cautiously.

     To his surprise, there was a glow of guilt in Bramblestar's eyes. “I wanted to apologize for delaying your warrior ceremony for so long,” he admitted. Molepaw started in surprise. His noble leader had dropped his strong tone and expression, and seemed to sag more with exhaustion now. He seemed older than his moons. “You and your sister should have been made warriors long ago, I can see that now. I'm sorry.”

     Molepaw struggled for a response, still surprised to hear his stoic leader speaking so openly. “It's not your fault,” he finally managed. “Cherrypaw and I were the ones who didn't pass our assessments. That had nothing to do with you.”

     Bramblestar shook his head. “Assessments aren't everything,” he told Molepaw. “I've seen how hard you've been working since leafbare began, and how hard Cherrypaw worked before she fell ill. That kind of dedication and loyalty is what makes a true warrior, not just skill alone. And now you’re an expecting father, working hard to provide for your new family. That is not the mark of an apprentice.” He sighed. “I've been too focused on the greater issues facing our Clan, I forgot to pay attention to the individual needs of my Clanmates. I saw for myself as a young cat how unfair it is to make such loyal cats wait to be acknowledged as full members of the Clan. I should have honored you and Cherrypaw as full warriors a long time ago.”

     Molepaw stared at his leader, surprised and touched by the tom's apology. “Thank you, Bramblestar,” he murmured.

     “I could make you a warrior now.” Molepaw's ears flew back in shock. Bramblestar stared at him, his gaze serious. “If you like, I can hold the ceremony tonight. You've more than earned it, and I know you will make a fine warrior. The Clan will be happy to honor you as a warrior. Your kits will only ever know you as a warrior, not an apprentice past his time.”

     For a moment, joy flooded Molepaw's heart. But the memory of his sister curled up in the medicine den, weak with sickness, quickly quashed any feelings of joy. He drew his head up, meeting his leader's gaze calmly. “Thank you for the offer, Bramblestar,” he said in a clear mew. “But my sister has worked just as hard as I have, and I won't leave her behind in the apprentice's den and become a warrior without her. I would like to wait until she is well enough to earn her name beside me.”

     The look of pity in Bramblestar's eyes chilled Molepaw to his core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, my vacation is over, and it’s back to work for me. But before work takes over my life again, here’s the newest chapter of Molefoot’s Loss. ^^
> 
> This time, we finally get a shorter time skip, only half a moon this time. But clearly a lot has happened in that half moon. Let’s start by listing the dead and where they went.
> 
> Lichenkit was led to StarClan by her aunt Honeyfern.
> 
> Briarlight was led to StarClan by her father Graystripe - and she can walk again in StarClan. I know some people disagree with this idea, but the way I see it, if it’s what the character would want, then that’s what she should have in the afterlife.
> 
> Dustpelt was led to StarClan by Ferncloud, of course.
> 
> Graystripe was led to StarClan by Silverstream, who is very happy to be united with in StarClan - but he also looks forward to being able to walk beside Millie when she joins him in StarClan.
> 
> Icecloud was led to StarClan by her mother Ferncloud.
> 
> Blackstar was led to StarClan by his mate Whitewater.
> 
> Littlecloud was led to StarClan by his old friend Cinderpelt.
> 
> I believe that’s everyone. This chapter takes place only a few days before the prologue of Faded Boundaries, so it was definitely interesting trying to keep everything consistent while also having it fit the story I came up with. Like I said, I wasn’t terribly good at consistent planning and such during the first book. :P
> 
> Part of that trying to stay consistent is Hazeltail being in the nursery. Her litter in Faded Boundaries is four moons younger than Cinderheart’s litter, and cats are pregnant for two months, so she shouldn’t be in the nursery with that litter yet. However, genius that I am, I mentioned Hazeltail being one of the Clan’s queens at the time, so into the nursery she goes. Don’t worry, the reason for that will be fully explained in a later chapter.
> 
> In this chapter, we get to see some set up for the rest of EOTW, and things referenced to in main EOTW books, which was fun to work in. And of course, we get our first introduction to a certain pair of kits, who might’ve had just a bit of an impact on EOTW. ;) Don’t worry, they won’t be taking over the plot of this novella now that they’re here. This is still very much Molepaw’s story.
> 
> This chapter marks the halfway point for this novella - I can't believe I'm there already. I think I hit all of the points I wanted to with this chapter. Next chapter should be an interesting one. I hope you’re all ready. ^^


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only a few days later...

Warriors Series 5.5: Echoes of the War  
Novella 6: Molefoot's Loss  
Chapter Six

     A dull, cloudy sky greeted Molepaw as he stepped out of the apprentices' den. Hunger already clawed at his gut, and though he'd only just awoken, exhaustion was dragging at his paws. It was going to be a long day.

     A quarter moon had passed since the meeting with Rowanstar. The trips to WindClan and RiverClan's camps had been similarly unsuccessful. Both Clans had given the same answer – they too had run out of catmint. Even worse, Brackenfur had been struck and killed by a monster while crossing a thunderpath back from RiverClan territory.

     The Clan had hardly had time to mourn his death when Thornclaw fell ill. He was currently in Jayfeather's care, though there seemed little hope for him or any other cat now that there were no herbs to cure them in any Clan. Bramblestar had mentioned the idea of sending a patrol to look beyond the territory for catmint, but it was clear he didn't hold much hope of them finding the herbs in time. Molepaw wasn't sure he had hope about anything anymore. All he could do was pray that he didn't lose what was dearest to him.

     All around camp, the air of defeat that had fallen over the Clan was plain to see. Molepaw could see Brightheart standing at the entrance of one of the smaller caves, where her brother Thornclaw was being kept for treatment. Dovewing and Ivypool were sitting side by side, murmuring worriedly to each other and casting glances towards the cave where their father was being kept. A familiar gray tabby emerged from the elder’s den and hurried to one of the caves. Ever since Blossomfall had caught whitecough, Millie had become dedicated to the tortoiseshell’s care. Despite her old age and her new status as an elder, she worked every day to visit her daughter and bring her prey, as well as spending time with Bumblestripe. The she-cat seemed determined to make up for all the time she’d missed with her remaining kits.

     Across the clearing, Molepaw heard voices raised in argument. “You can’t keep going like this.” He looked towards the thorn tunnel to see Squirrelflight glaring down her mother, who met her glare with a stubborn gaze of her own. A pigeon hung from Sandstorm’s jaws. “You’re an elder, you’re supposed to be resting.”

     “Mousedung to resting,” Sandstorm snorted, setting the pigeon by her paws. “The Clan needs to eat, and there’s too many sick warriors that need to be fed. As long as I’ve still got strength in my legs, I’ll keep hunting for my Clan.”

     “You’re not as strong as you used to be,” Squirrelflight argued, lashing her bushy tail. “And you’re no better-fed than the rest of us. You can’t keep up this pace.”

     Sandstorm just shook her head, insisting, “I’ll be fine,” before pushing past her daughter and returning to the elder’s den. Squirrelflight glared after her mother, fear glowing in her eyes as her tail lashed.

     Ever since the sickness had struck, Sandstorm had returned to hunting duties, often hunting like whole patrols on her own. But even with her legendary hunting skill, the she-cat was slowing in her old age. Molepaw could understand why Squirrelflight was worried. Something tightened in his chest. Cats were dying, prey was so low that elders were hunting, and no one had any solutions. He had never known a darker time for the Clans.

     With a sigh, the tom approached the meager fresh-kill pile. He plucked a squirrel off of the pile and headed for the medicine den. His heart was tight with fear - Cherrypaw had grown worse, and had been flitting in and out of consciousness for the last day or two. He just hoped she would be awake when he arrived, and in the mood to eat. She had to eat if she was going to get better. She had to keep her strength up.

     He had almost reached the den when a familiar scrawny tom emerged from the cave. Molepaw froze instantly. Jayfeather’s blind gaze was dull and glassy with grief, and he almost seemed to be swaying on his paws. When he turned his head to face Molepaw, he could feel the intense blind gaze on him as though the tom really was looking at him.

     In a hoarse, cracking mew, Jayfeather whispered, “I’m sorry.”

     Something inside of Molepaw broke apart.

      _No._

      A fire began blazing in Molepaw’s chest. It burned just under his pelt, urging him forward, shrieking in his ears and demanding that he change things, that he somehow make what he’d just heard not true. Whatever had kept him frozen in fear was shattered, and some primal urge from far beneath took over.

     “No!” The cry that tore from his throat seemed to belong to some other cat. He tore past Jayfeather, flying into the medicine den and scrambling to his sister’s nest as fast as his paws could carry him. He collapsed beside the tabby, nudging her desperately with his muzzle. “Cherrypaw! Cherrypaw, wake up!”

     There was no response. His sister was curled loosely on her nest, her paws fallen limply away from her body. Her head was tilted back, her jaws split a little, dried spit speckling her chin. Her eyes were closed. No matter how Molepaw nudged and prodded her, no matter how he begged and pleaded, no matter what he said, Cherrypaw gave no answer. Her fur was cold to the touch. She was so skinny, so much smaller than she’d seemed in life, so broken. A strangled sob broke from Molepaw’s throat. The truth finally sank in. _She’s gone._

     Molepaw didn’t realize he was wailing his grief until he heard alarmed cries outside of the den, and the pawsteps of cats coming to investigate the wails. A shriek rang out from the den’s entrance. “Cherrypaw!” Suddenly his parents were beside him, bristling with horror. Poppyfrost’s eyes were huge with grief, and Berrynose was shaking like a leaf. “Cherrypaw?” he whispered, staring at the body of his daughter with the raw fear and vulnerability of a kit. “Get up. Please, darling.” He reached out with his muzzle, gently brushing his daughter’s pelt, but she didn’t stir. Molepaw couldn’t seem to stop his wailing.

     “My daughter!” Poppyfrost wailed. She collapsed beside Cherrypaw’s body, burying her face in the tabby’s pelt. Berrynose pressed against Molepaw, allowing his son to crumple against him, mewing quiet words of comfort in a cracking mew. His father had always been a bit boastful and argumentative, even annoying at times, but now he was a strong figure for Molepaw to lean on, offering comfort even through his own grief. Molepaw closed his eyes and pressed himself against his father’s pelt, still crying out his grief. _She’s gone,_ his mind kept repeated in an agonized mantra. _She’s gone._

     “Molepaw.” The tom was broken out of his stunned haze of grief by a gentle mew. He opened his eyes to see Leafpool in front of him. There was kindness in her amber eyes, and a soothing gentleness to her mew. “I’m so sorry. I really am. But you can’t be this close to her.” Molepaw blinked at the former medicine cat, his mind sluggish with grief. “There’s still sickness on her pelt. We can’t risk anyone else getting sick.”

     Berrynose stiffened beside him. “I’m not leaving my daughter,” he protested in a weak growl.

     From the den’s entrance, a rasping new sounded. “It’s the only way to keep from passing on the sickness.” Molepaw looked over to see Jayfeather standing behind them. The medicine cat’s expression was dull with defeat, and sympathy glowed in his blind eyes. “I’m sorry, but we can’t risk losing you too.”

     “Jayfeather and I will arrange her body for the vigil tonight,” Leafpool explained. “You’ll still be able to see her and say your goodbyes. You just can’t touch her pelt.”

     Berrynose stared at the she-cat in dumb silence, his pelt still trembling. It was Poppyfrost who finally spoke. “Come on,” she murmured, gently nosing her mate’s pelt. “She’s right. We can’t risk getting anyone else sick - and we can’t risk Molepaw getting sick.”

     That seemed to finally bring Berrynose back to life. With a jolt, he finally stepped away from Cherrypaw’s body. Still dull with grief, Molepaw allowed his father to lead him away and out of the den. He hardly noticed as Poppyfrost began rubbing snow on his pelt to wash the sickness from his fur. It wasn’t until they were out in the harsh wind and bleak light of the camp, and a familiar voice called his name, that he finally broke out of his shock. “Molepaw!”

     His bleary gaze finally focused again as it settled on the cream queen. “Rosepetal,” he murmured. His parents stepped back as Rosepetal embraced him, pressing herself against his side and rubbing her muzzle against his neck. Molepaw leaked into the embrace, laying his chin over Rosepetal’s head.

     “Oh Molepaw,” Rosepetal whispered. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine.” Molepaw said nothing, only curling tighter against his mate’s side. Unconsciously, he brushed Rosepetal’s side with his tail. The kits growing in her belly seemed all the more vulnerable to him now. He could lose them just as easily as he lost his sister. _Oh StarClan,_ he wailed in his heart. _How could you let this happen?_

     They stayed like that for what felt like moons, just leaning against each other, blocking everything else out. Finally, however, Molepaw could feel restlessness itching at his paws. Cherrypaw’s death felt all too real, he felt suffocated, there was no room to breathe, nowhere to get away from the horrible truth. He stumbled away from Rosepetal. “I... I have to get out of here,” he mewed. “I need air.”

     Rosepetal’s eyes glowed with concern. “You shouldn’t go out there alone,” she told him. “Not now.”

     “I’ll go with him.” Molepaw was surprised to hear the familiar mew behind him. Brightheart was behind the couple, sympathy glowing in her blue eye, her tail swishing gently behind her. She gave Rosepetal a brief nod, then turned her gaze to Molepaw. “That is, if that’s alright,” she added.

      Molepaw hesitated. All he really wanted was to be alone with his grief. But he softened when he remembered Brightheart had recently lost a littermate too. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have her around. “Alright,” he rasped.

      With a final mew of farewell to his mate, Molepaw allowed his mentor to lead him to the thorn tunnel and out into the forest. Some of the panic in Molepaw’s mind died down as they began their slow walk through the woods. There was a soothing quiet to the leafbare air, only a few birds offering their song, and it was a relief to be out of the stifling atmosphere of the camp. But without his panic to distract, he was left with no escape from his grief. He could feel his pelt beginning to tremble again. _I’ll never see my sister again._

     “I'm sorry.” Molepaw started, surprised out of his thoughts. He glanced over at Brightheart, who had understanding glowing in her eye. “I truly am. I know how unfair it is.”

     Molepaw stared at his mentor, trying not to feel bitterness against the she-cat. She had lost a littermate too, but at least Brackenfur had been a senior warrior with a full life behind him when he'd died. “Because of your brother?”

     To his surprise, she shook her head. “No.” A distant look came into her eye, a glow of some long-forgotten grief there. “Because of Swiftpaw.”

     He pricked his ears curiously. “The apprentice who fought the dogs with you?” Molepaw had heard the apprentice's name mentioned in stories before, though Brightheart herself had rarely spoken of him. He knew that Swiftpaw had died fighting the dogs alongside Brightheart, but not much else.

     “It was Swiftpaw's idea to try and find the animals stealing our prey in the first place,” she mewed. There was something wistful in her tone. “He'd been an apprentice even longer than me. He was so _ready_ to be a warrior. He was willing to risk his life just to prove that he was worthy of being a warrior.” Grief clouded her eye for a moment. “And it ended up costing him everything.”

     A lump was forming in Molepaw's throat. “She wanted to be a warrior so much,” he said, a sob creeping into his mew. “We... we were going to be warriors together. There was so much ahead of us.” All of the numbness he'd been feeling since leaving his sister's body fell away, and he could feel grief flooding through him as though breaking from a dam. “She... she loved life so much. She should have seen so much more of it. It's not fair!” Anger had joined with his grief now. He dug his claws deep into the snow, hardly caring how the frost bit into his paws and soaked his fur. “How could StarClan take her away?”

     Brightheart watched him with a soft glow of sympathy in her eye. “I don't think StarClan gets to choose when a cat dies and when a cat lives,” she murmured. “All they can do is guide the spirits of our Clanmates somewhere they can be safe. You're right, it's not fair, it's never fair when someone so young has their life stolen from them.” Molepaw could feel his pelt trembling with fury and grief and regret. He locked his gaze with Brightheart's, desperate for something to keep him grounded. “There's nothing any cat can say or do to make it okay. It will never be fair that Cherrypaw never got to live her life as a warrior. All we can do is keep living our lives, and try to live our lives in a way that would make them proud.”

     “But I can't make her proud!” Molepaw blurted out. Brightheart looked at him, clearly surprised. He was trembling all over, all of his old fears and doubts rising to the surface. The words came tumbling out before he could stop them.“I was never brave like her. I've always been scared of so many things. I never felt like I was ready to be a warrior. She... she wanted all of it. I was scared of the responsibility, of the pain and the fighting, of the work, of letting cats down...” He gazed desperately at his mentor. “I don't know if I can do this, Brightheart,” he whispered. “I don't know if I'm worthy of being a warrior. I'm not brave. Not like she was.”

     Brightheart's eye was wide with shock, disbelief and worry glowing in her eyes. Then sympathy took over. “Oh Molepaw,” she breathed. To the apprentice's surprise, Brightheart crossed the distance between them and laid her chin over his bowed head. “Don't you see... Molepaw, you _are_ brave.” The apprentice stiffened in surprise. “You've been so brave this whole leafbare. Don't you think it took courage to keep facing the cold and the sickness day after day? To keep providing for your Clan and working yourself to the bone to keep them fed?”

     She pulled back, a warm gleam in her eye. “All of that fear you were feeling... it doesn't mean you aren't brave, Molepaw,” she mewed. “It means you understand the challenges and dangers we face in our life in the forest. You know what the dangers are, and you face them anyway, and you work hard to provide for your Clan. You visited your sister day after day, you took such care of her, you're already working so hard for your kits.” She touched her nose to his forehead, mewing, “You may not have your name yet, Molepaw, but you are everything that a warrior could hope to be. Don't forget that.”

     Molepaw stared at his mentor, too surprised and overwhelmed to find the words to respond. Brightheart was a supportive mentor and a kind cat, but he had never expected such high praise, not when all of his doubts weighed on him so heavily. Unexpected warmth swelled up in his chest. “Thank you, Brightheart,” he whispered. “Really. Thank you.”

     The one-eyed warrior flicked her ear in a friendly way. “I'm very proud of you, Molepaw,” she mewed. “You've grown into a such a fine cat. I'm grateful I got the chance to train you, and being able to play a part in shaping the warrior you've become.”

     “I'm glad I got to train with you as well,” Molepaw mewed honestly. “If you get another apprentice, they'll see just how lucky I was. You're a great warrior.”

     Something sad glowed in Brightheart's eye, but there was a sense of peace there as well. “I'm not going to have another apprentice,” she revealed. Molepaw's ears flew back in shock as she revealed, “After Bramblestar makes you a full warrior, Cloudtail and I are going to retire to the elder's den.”

     “What?” Molepaw gaped at his mentor. “But... you're a strong warrior, you could have moons left ahead of you.” A strange feeling of loss came over him. Brightheart had taught him so much of what she claimed made him brave. Other than Cherrypaw, she was probably the cat he’d relied on the most. He wasn’t really losing her, not like he’d lost Cherrypaw, but it still felt like grief. He wouldn’t have her to turn to as a fellow warrior when his time came.

     Brightheart's whiskers twitched. “I could, but I don't want to,” she told him. “I'm not young anymore, Molepaw. I can feel my age in my bones. I've had a good life. I've loved being a warrior. I always wanted an apprentice, the chance to pass on everything I knew to the next generation, and now I've finally had that. All I want now is to spend the rest of my days in peace with the cat I love.”

     Molepaw was still reeling with this new feeling of loss. But at the look of peace in her one good eye, he began to feel ashamed of himself. This wasn’t about him. Brightheart shouldn’t have to give up the rest she wanted just to support him. He was a grown cat - and he still had many Clanmates by his side. He would just have to figure out how to be brave as a warrior on his own terms. “If that's what will make you happy, then may StarClan grant you many moons there,” he mewed. “I promise I'll remember everything you taught me.” _And I promise I’ll use it to be brave in the way you taught me._

     The warrior dipped her head to her apprentice. “I know that losing Cherrypaw hurts,” she told him. “Just remember that I will always be proud of you – and that wherever she is, Cherrypaw is proud of you too.” Molepaw stared at his mentor, his heart aching inside of him. He wished he could believe what she said – but how could Cherrypaw be proud of him, when he was living and she was not? When she had her whole life stolen from her?

     How would he ever make up for what she had lost?

**SCENEBREAK**

     The vigil for Cherrypaw was a solemn affair. It was achingly clear how many familiar faces were missing from the crowd, either from sickness or from having already left for StarClan. Poppyfrost and Berrynose had stayed by Molepaw side at the beginning, but he had soon moved to crouch beside Rosepetal, wanting the comfort of his mate's pelt pressed against his own. The grief was raw in his heart. Looking at Cherrypaw's body, stretched out and glowing silver in the moonlight, it felt like nothing would ever be okay again.

     As the night wore on, some of their Clanmates retired to their dens, only those closest to Cherrypaw staying throughout. The need to rest for hunting in the morning was too strong for many to ignore. Despair clutched at Molepaw’s heart - leafbare had even stolen their ability to grieve from them. Foxleap was one of the remaining cats, staring at his apprentice with his tail trembling in horror. Poppyfrost and Berrynose were still there, and Cinderheart, supporting her sister. Rosepetal and Molepaw were the closest to Cherrypaw's body. No cat spoke as the vigil dragged on, each cat wrapped up in their own grief. The silence was deafening.

     Molepaw had started the vigil feeling grief and hopelessness threatening to consume him. But now, staring at the sister he'd failed to save, he could feel something new. Something steely was in his gut now, anger and determination all mixing together.

     Brightheart was right. It wasn't fair what had happened, it wasn't okay, and nothing he did could make it okay. But Cherrypaw had earned her right to be a warrior a hundred times over. She _deserved_ to be a warrior. And if there wasn't anything he could do to make her a warrior in life, perhaps there was one small thing he could do for her in StarClan.

     In a soft mew, so faint that no one else would hear, Molepaw whispered. “I know I have no right to speak for you, StarClan,” he whispered. Rosepetal shifted beside him – he knew she alone could hear him, but he didn't mind. If any cat was to share this secret with him, he wanted it to be her. “But I ask you to hear me – for her sake, if not for mine. Please.”

     “I ask my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice,” he began, echoing the words in the stories handed down by the elders. Stories of dying apprentices receiving their warrior names. “She has learned the warrior code and has given up her life in the service of her Clan. Let StarClan receive her as a warrior.”

     Molepaw took a deep breath, then continued, “She will be known as Cherryleaf, for the leaves we chased together as kits, for the times she played like a kit to lift my spirits... and for the leaves that should have healed her.” He looked upon his sister's body, feeling that determination grow tighter and tighter in his gut. “Let StarClan receive her as Cherryleaf,” he finished.

     Rosepetal touched her nose to his cheek. “That's a good name for her,” she murmured. Understanding glowed in her eyes. Molepaw laid his chin over her head, purring weakly. He knew some of his Clanmates might not understand his need to hold a ceremony after her death, and his parents might not want a reminder of the warrior life she had lost. But he knew this was what his sister deserved, and he was more grateful than ever to have a wonderful, compassionate she-cat who understood that to stand by his side.

     As he turned to look once more on Cherryleaf's body, he finally came to a decision. Whatever it took, whatever he had to do, he would not let Cherryleaf's death be in vain. He would do everything in his power to fight the terrible sickness that had claimed his sister's life. He would live up to the expectations of his mentor, and his Clanmates, and he would be brave in the face of loss and do whatever it took to provide for his Clan.

     Or he would die trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was a chapter I’d been looking forward to writing for a while, so I got it done fairly quickly. ^^ Enjoy.
> 
> Let’s start by talking about the dead characters. Brackenfur was led to StarClan by his sister Cinderpelt, and Cherryleaf was led to StarClan by Briarlight, her friend and a cat she’d admired a lot.
> 
> Now onto the other content in the chapter. Cherryleaf’s death shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone who’s read the rest of EOTW, since her death was mentioned in the very first chapter of Faded Boundaries (though I can certainly understand forgetting). I also had to fit Brackenfur’s offhand mentioned death via monster somewhere. I’d totally forgotten there aren’t any thunderpaths in ThunderClan territory when I wrote that first mention of his death, so I had to improvise a bit, but eh.
> 
> What should be a surprise is the use of the dying apprentice ceremony, and Cherryleaf’s full name. I’ve always wanted to see another use of the dying apprentice ceremony, we only ever got to see it used with Brightheart, and I always thought it would be cool to bring it back. In this case, the apprentice in question was dead, not dying, which is part of why Molepaw didn’t advertise what he did too much (I get the sense that most Clan cats only consider name changes valid if they happen when a cat is alive, hence all the StarClan apprentices without a warrior name.)
> 
> Cherryleaf’s full name was never referenced in EOTW, but that actually makes sense considering Molepaw kept the ceremony secret and only he and Rosepetal knew about Cherryleaf’s full name, it would make sense that all other narrating cats would only know to refer to her as Cherrypaw. So it all works out. ^
> 
> We also get to see some frank talk with Brightheart, Molepaw worrying over his bravery again, and his determination to do something. And also Sandstorm hunting like whole patrols on her own even as an elder like the awesome cat she is. :D
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this one, and I think the remaining chapters should be fun too. ^^ See you there.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A choice is made...

Warriors Series 5.5: Echoes of the War  
Novella 6: Molefoot's Loss  
Chapter Seven

     A freezing wind was tearing through the forest that morning. Molepaw could feel it buffeting his sides, tugging at his pelt and sending a freezing chill through to his bones. Flecks of snow were carried along the wind – only a flurry for now, but Molepaw knew how quickly that could turn into a raging snowstorm. The cats on his hunting patrol were traveling pelt-to-pelt through the woods, trying to draw any warmth they could from each other.

     “Foxdung!” a tiny gray she-cat spat as a particularly fierce gust nearly toppled her over. “I hate this cold! Why did I have to have this stupid short pelt?” She fluffed out her gray fur, pressing more firmly against Molepaw’s fluffy side. He allowed the closeness with an amused purr.

     Berrynose glanced back at his young apprentice. A spark of amusement flashed in his eyes, usually so dull after Cherryleaf’s passing. “Don’t fuss, Amberpaw,” he chided her. “Come greenleaf, you’ll be glad to have that pelt. Just be glad you don’t have to deal with getting burrs and thorns and StarClan knows what else tangled in your fur like I do.”

     A gray tom beside Amberpaw joked, “It’s not her fault she’s so cold. Don’t they say smaller animals lose warmth faster?” Amberpaw threw a glare in her brother’s direction, sticking her tongue out when her mentor wasn’t looking

     Brightheart’s kits had been made apprentices a few days before Cherrypaw had fallen ill. Bramblestar had assigned Mousewhisker and Blossomfall as Snowpaw and Dewpaw’s mentors, but since they were still sick, Lionblaze and Bumblestripe were filling in for now. Both toms were on the patrol now, fluffing our their thick pelts against the cold.

     “We should head back to camp soon,” Lionblaze called over the wind. He ducked his head as a gust of wind surged his way, causing his golden pelt to wave wildly to one side. “It’s too cold to stay out much longer.”

     Snowpaw stared at his temporary mentor in dismay. “But we haven’t caught anything!” he protested, anxiety in his mew, as though he feared being blamed for the lack of prey.

     There was a grim light in Bumblestripe’s eyes. “We can’t do anything about that now,” he told the apprentice. “If we stay out too long, we won’t have the energy to make it back to camp.” Snowpaw’s eyes widened in dismay, and even the cheery Dewpaw seemed sobered by the warrior’s words. “Come on.”

     Lionblaze took the lead as the patrol turned back towards camp. Molepaw could see frustration in the lashing of the golden warrior’s tail. He couldn’t imagine how Lionblaze felt - he had all the power of the stars in his paws, but it was useless to keep his Clanmates safe from sickness, and he had been helpless to save his daughter. Something tightened in his chest. _Just like I was helpless to save Cherryleaf._

     A little over half a moon had passed since Cherryleaf’s death. In that time, greencough had continued to ravage through the forest, and the Clans continued to starve and suffer. Dovewing had reported multiple deaths in the other Clans, including Mothwing not long after Cherryleaf's passing, and the loss of Onestar’s last life some days ago. Ashfoot had already gone to the Moonpool to receive her nine lives, and Willowshine was the full medicine cat of RiverClan. Molepaw didn’t envy their tasks of having to establish their new ranks while their Clans were so broken by hunger and sickness.

     Even worse, ThunderClan’s own leadership was becoming similarly shaky. Bramblestar had started coughing some days ago, and now he was confined to his den, strictly under Jayfeather’s watch. Molepaw knew that Bramblestar had lives to spare, but it was still a dangerous situation. The tom was in no fit state to lead. Squirrelflight had stepped up while her mate was sick, but she had no better solution for treating the sick cats than anyone else, and the strain of being both leader and deputy was beginning to show on the she-cat. It was clear that the Clan couldn’t go on like this.

     Determination burned in Molepaw’s belly as he followed his Clanmates towards the camp. He had not forgotten the vow he’d made to himself during his sister’s vigil. He would do whatever it took to rid the forest of this disease. Since his sister’s death, Molepaw had spent every patrol and every excursion out of camp searching the forest for catmint. As hard as he’d tried, however, he’d finally had to admit defeat. There was no more catmint in ThunderClan territory. And that made his next step all the easier to decide.

     Molepaw let his Clanmates take the lead as they pushed through the thorn tunnel. While the others headed to their dens, Molepaw took a turn towards the medicine den.

     The stench of sickness hit his nose the second he padded into the den. Thornclaw was curled up in a nest near one side of the cave, moaning and twitching in his sleep. His whitecough had turned to greencough some days ago. Jayfeather was picking through herbs in the back of the den, but he lifted his head when Molepaw entered. “I’m busy,” the tom snapped. “If you’re not sick, don’t bother me.”

     The apprentice stared evenly at the medicine cat, unfazed by his anger. “This is important,” he insisted. Jayfeather gave an ill-tempered grunt, but he did turn to face Molepaw as the apprentice approached. In a low, urgent mew, he asked, “What's the best place to look for catmint?”

     Jayfeather stiffened. The annoyance quickly faded from his eyes, replaced by an intense, searching gaze. Molepaw knew the medicine cat was probably reading through his thoughts, but he forced himself to meet the tom's gaze anyway, refusing to back down. After several moments, Jayfeather sighed. “What you're planning is mouse-brained,” he told the apprentice. “But... I can see I won't be able to talk you out of it.”

     “No, you won't,” Molepaw told him firmly. Jayfeather flicked an ear, but said nothing in reply. “You know better than any cat that there's no catmint left in our territory.”

     “Mistystar already sent out a patrol to look outside of Clan territory,” Jayfeather reminded him. “They had to return home because the storm got so bad, and now so many cats are sick that no Clan can spare a patrol. We need every warrior we have here, hunting for the Clan.”

     Molepaw shook his head. “We can't spare a full patrol,” he mewed. “And Bramblestar would never ask a cat to go on such a quest alone. He'd consider it too dangeorus. But he's not asking me – I'm choosing to go for myself.” He lowered his muzzle, urgency creeping into his tone. “Our Clan is dying, Jayfeather,” he rasped. “All of the Clans are dying. The only hope we have is finding some way to cure this greencough. And that's not going to happen unless someone looks beyond the forest.”

     Jayfeather rested his intense, unseeing gaze on the apprentice. “Do you know what you'd be risking?” he asked. The tom's mew was much gentler and much more subdued than Molepaw had ever heard it before. Jayfeather was usually so gruff and closed-off, but now there was concern glowing in his eyes. “Your parents have already lost one kit, and your own kits will be born soon. Do you know what it would mean for this Clan if they lost you?”

     The apprentice paused, surprised by the medicine cat's praise. But the determination stirring in his gut made him press on. “I know the promises I've made to my family and my Clan,” he assured Jayfeather. “But I also know what we could all lose if I stay here. My family will still have their Clan if they lose me, as I had mine when Cherrypaw died.” He lifted his chin, feeling determination swelling in his chest. “I will do everything in my power to come back to my Clan, and to my family,” he vowed. “But I have to do this. I have to help my Clan – I don't want any cat to have to suffer another loss like mine.”

     Something softened in Jayfeather's gaze. He seemed to hesitate a moment, then hung his head, a distant glow in his eyes. “I understand,” he murmured. “Better than you think... it's never easy losing a littermate.” Molepaw stared at the tom, an ache in his heart as he remembered Hollyleaf's passing. After a moment, Jayfeather lifted his head again, a stronger look in his eyes. “I still say you're a mousebrain,” he mewed. “But you're not wrong. We need those herbs. And I'm not about to turn down help to find them.”

     Jayfeather lashed his tail, his mew becoming more brisk. “Catmint is usually found near twolegs,” he told Molepaw. “In the old forest territory, there was catmint in Twolegplace. Twolegs sometimes keep it in their gardens. But I don't know of any nearby twolegplaces.”

     Molepaw racked his brain, trying to remember everything he'd been told about twolegs and twolegplaces, anything that might help. “Twolegs use thunderpaths to travel on, don't they?” he mewed slowly. “Every creature needs to know the way home, even twolegs, so those thunderpaths must connect back to their dens at some point.” Jayfeather's ears pricked, his gaze sharpening with interest. “If I follow a thunderpath long enough, I bet I'll find a twolegplace.”

     “I think you're right,” Jayfeather mewed. He closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in thought. “There aren't any thunderpaths in our territory, but that path that leads past the abandoned den used to be a thunderpath,” he murmured. “And Dovewing's mentioned being able to hear the roaring of monsters from there - it must connect to a real thunderpath at some point.”

     Relief flooded through Molepaw. Finally, he knew the way forward. “Then I'll leave tonight, when everyone's asleep,” he decided aloud. “The sooner the better.” He dipped his head to the medicine cat, mewing a sincere, “Thank you, Jayfeather.”

     He turned and started for the den's entrance, but a sharp mew from behind made him pause. “Molepaw?” When he turned to look back at Jayfeather, he was surprised at the respect glowing in Jayfeather's eyes. “Be careful,” the medicine cat said simply.

     A purr rose in Molepaw's throat. Ever since learning of Jayfeather's powers, he'd always been so intimidated by the gruff, all-seeing tom. But now, he felt he was seeing Jayfeather for the first time – not an all-powerful spirit, not a gruff and solitary loner, but a medicine cat who cared deeply for his Clan and felt the same fear and loss as any other cat. He dipped his head once more to the blind tabby, giving a respectful mew, before turning and padding out of the medicine den.

     Once out of the den, his gaze was drawn to the base of the High Ledge. A group of cats were gathered near the stony wall, whispering to each other and casting fearful glances towards the thorn tunnel. Squirrelflight was among them – when Molepaw spotted her, he padded over, flicking his tail in greeting. “What's going on?” he asked.

     Fear was blazing in the deputy's eyes, even as her tone and bearing remained strong. “Sandstorm went out hunting alone before dawn,” she informed the apprentice. “She hasn't come back yet, and no one's seen her since she left.”

     Alarm spiked through Molepaw's pelt. “Oh no,” he breathed. ThunderClan had lost so much already this leafbare, and Sandstorm had been working so hard to keep the Clan fed. What would they do if they'd lost her now?

     “I'll lead a patrol to look for her,” Leafpool called from the crowd. Worry glowed in Squirrelflight's eyes, but she dipped her head to her sister in acceptance. Leafpool always seemed somehow removed from the other warriors, too gentle and too isolated to ever be anything but a medicine cat. But now she looked over the crowd with a gaze as sharp and commanding as any warrior's. “Hazeltail, Toadstep, and Molepaw, you're with me,” she ordered.

     “Yes Leafpool!” As the patrol gathered and waited for Leafpool's orders, a warm pelt brushed against Molepaw's, a familiar cream queen coming to stand beside him.

     “You're leaving now, aren't you?” Rosepetal murmured.

     Something tightened in Molepaw's chest. Rosepetal was the only cat he'd confided in about his plan to leave and find catmint. “I'll help them find Sandstorm first, of course,” he murmured. “But after everyone's distracted with bringing her back, I'll use that to slip away.”

     Rosepetal sighed, pressing her muzzle against his neck. “I wish I could come with you,” she murmured. She glanced at her belly, mewing, “But we can't risk the kits. It's not safe out there for them.”

     Molepaw nodded, then touched his nose to her cheek. “I'll be back as soon as I can,” he promised. He looked into Rosepetal's eyes, feeling his love for the wonderful queen mixing with his fear of not returning. “Tell the Clan where I've gone before they send out any search parties,” he murmured. “I don't want them wasting hunting time looking for me.” Rosepetal nodded, then stepped away, allowing her mate to join the rest of the patrol where Leafpool was standing.

     Once every cat was standing together, Leafpool mewed a sharp, “Let's go!” She swiftly led the patrol out of camp and into the forest. The snow had picked up since Molepaw's morning patrol, and now it was getting harder to see the surrounding trees and undergrowth through the thickening sheets of snow. “She said she was going to hunt near the Ancient Oak,” Leafpool called to the rest of the patrol. “We’ll start there.”

     The patrol traveled in grim silence, their pace brisk with purpose as they trekked through the woods. As they got closer to the Ancient Oak, every cat was looking around, alert for any sign of the elder. Molepaw scanned the snowy forest floor for any hint of the elder’s pale pelt, or any prey she might have caught and buried, but there was nothing. A sense of dread began to creep over the tom. With the falling snow making it harder to see, and covering up potential tracks, they might not find Sandstorm before it was too late.

     “There!” Hazeltail’s cry broke the silence. She gestured with her tail to deep marks in the snow a few paces away, by the base of a tree. It looked like a cat had been trudging through the snow – and recently, since they hadn't been filled in with snow yet. “Those could be her tracks.”

     Leafpool bounded to the track, giving them a quick sniff. She stiffened. “That’s Sandstorm’s scent,” she confirmed. The tabby lifted her head. “And the tracks are heading for the Ancient Oak.”

     Without another word, the she-cat took off at a sprint, the rest of the patrol on her heels. They followed the tracks through the forest until they came to a rise overlooking the lake. A horrified cry escaped Leafpool. Following her gaze, Molepaw spotted a pale ginger lump curled up between the roots of the Ancient Oak. He froze. _Oh StarClan, no._

     “Sandstorm!” Leafpool wailed. She hurtled down the slope towards the tree. Molepaw and the others followed after her, skidding to a halt behind her as she desperately nudged her mother. No matter how Leafpool prodded her and called to her, Sandstorm didn’t move. Her eyes were closed, and she was curled into a tight ball, as though she’d been trying to fight off the cold.

     Grief welled up in Molepaw’s heart. “Oh Leafpool,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry.” Leafpool didn’t respond. She merely curled around her mother’s body, staring bleakly ahead of her.

     Hazeltail gently nudged one of Sandstorm’s paws aside, revealing a rusty-furred creature in her grasp. “A squirrel,” the queen murmured. “She must have caught it not long before she died.”

     “She kept it so we would find it when... when we found her.” Leafpool’s mew was hoarse with grief, her gaze focused and unseeing. “She must have known she couldn’t make it back to camp... but she still wanted her catch to feed the Clan. Oh Sandstorm...” Leafpool closed her eyes, a tremor running through her pelt as she laid her chin over Sandstorm’s head.

     Toadstep approached the grieving warrior, nudging her gently with his muzzle. “We can’t stay here,” he told her in a soft mew. “The Clan will be expecting us back. We need to get Sandstorm home.” Leafpool lifted her head, staring at the tom bleakly, but after a moment she nodded. She rose shakily to her paws, then began to help Toadstep in lifting her mother’s body, draping the dead elder across the two warriors’ backs. As they started off, Hazeltail turned to Molepaw. “Can you carry the squirrel?” she asked.

     Molepaw hesitated. He hated to leave now, when his Clanmates were already suffering the grief of one loss. Then his resolve hardened. More cats could be lost if he didn’t find the herbs they needed. He had to go.

     “Would you mind carrying it?” he mewed. He ducked his head, letting his ears droop with very real grief. “I don’t want to be in camp just now, not with everyone grieving again. I think I’ll stay out for a while and try to get some hunting done.”

     Sympathy glowed in Hazeltail’s eyes. “I understand,” she murmured. She touched her nose briefly to Molepaw’s forehead. “Don’t stay out too long,” she mewed. The queen pulled back, then padded over to Sandstorm’s squirrel, scooping up in her jaws. She began padding after the patrol. Soon, she had pushed through the undergrowth and disappeared from view, leaving Molepaw alone in the snow.

     The tom watched after her for a brief moment, feeling the ache of guilt in his chest. Then he set off. He moved quickly through the forest, following the quickest route to the abandoned thunderpath. The path was nearly impossible to tell apart from the rest of the snowy ground, but he could vaguely tell where the path was from where the trees and undergrowth stopped.

     Molepaw followed the edge of the path, letting it lead him away from the stone hollow and further into the woods. The guilt of sneaking away and lying to Hazeltail still lingered in his thoughts, but there was a sense of purpose there as well, and determination not to fail. For what felt like the first time, he knew exactly what he was doing, and why he was doing it.

     There had been so much loss already. Molepaw had lost a beloved sister and friend, and so many dear Clanmates that he would never see again. The feeling of unfairness, that his sister would never get to live among her Clanmates again, threatened to overwhelm him. But he had learned much living among his Clanmates and watching them grieve, and he knew he couldn’t let himself be motivated purely by loss. As much as he missed Cherryleaf, this wasn’t just about her, or Sandstorm, or any of the cats they’d loved and lost. This was about the cats he still had in his life. Cats who lived and loved and lost just like him, cats who could still be saved. He was doing this for them.

     Molepaw only looked back once, after the snowy path led him past the borders of his home. _StarClan, let me see this place again,_ he prayed in his heart. Then he drew himself up, turned back to the path, and forced himself onward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a bit to get on a roll with this chapter, but yay it’s done. ^^
> 
> First, the dead.
> 
> Onestar was led to StarClan by his son Thistlepaw.
> 
> Mothwing was led to StarClan by her mentor Mudfur. She believed in StarClan after the Dark Battle, having finally seen them with her own eyes, but she had never fully come to terms with it, and it was still a shock to awaken after her death to see herself as a starry spirit. Mudfur apologized to her for all that she suffered and told her that he was very proud of her, and feeling more at peace, she followed him to StarClan.
> 
> Sandstorm was, of course, led to StarClan by her beloved Firestar. I always felt that death by overexhaustion while hunting in her old age was the most fitting death for her, though I love how things are written in canon too. ^^
> 
> Now we see what Molepaw meant when he promised to avenge Cherryleaf’s death. ^^ And we get a nod to the title, yay. :) And a glimpse of Brightheart’s litter as new apprentices. :D It was fun to write them as apprentices again.
> 
> I don’t want to say too much more at the moment, but I hope you enjoy what’s still to come. ^^ Only three chapters left.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time later...

Warriors Series 5.5: Echoes of the War  
Novella 6: Molefoot's Loss  
Chapter Eight

     The tom could no longer feel his paws. He set one numb, shaking limb before the other, head bowed wretchedly against the wind, fighting with everything within him to keep from collapsing of sheer exhaustion. A monster roared past him, the force of it tearing at his pelt, but he didn't so much as flinch. He was too exhausted to care. He couldn't remember the last time the taste of prey had passed his lips, or when he'd last felt warm. Night had already fallen and the cold was becoming worse and worse. All he knew was that he was close, so close now, and he had to keep going.

     Many days had passed since Molepaw had left ThunderClan territory. The abandoned thunderpath had indeed connected to a much larger, much more active one, and since then Molepaw had followed the path wherever it led. He had done his best to hunt for himself and keep himself strong on the way, but prey was even scarcer out here than in ThunderClan territory. He didn't know how much longer he could keep going.

     Through the sheets of of snow and wind, lights were glowing dimly in the distance. They had been visible through the snow for some time now. Molepaw didn’t have the energy to be hopeful. The last few times he’d thought he’d seen a Twolegplace in the distance, it always turned out to be some sort of den for monsters, or gathering places with lots of twolegs but no gardens, or gathering dens that smelled strongly of food, but that Molepaw couldn’t enter. He’d seen and walked among more twolegs than he’d ever wanted to see in his life, but so far, not even a scrap of catmint.

     The hope he’d felt going into his mission had all but drained away, chipped away piece by piece with each new disappointment the thunderpath led him to. Doubt plagued his every thought. What if the thunderpath never led to a twolegplace at all? Twolegs were mad, every cat knew that. He’d been a fool to think he could predict their behavior. He should have never left home. He had failed.

     And yet, something inside of him rebelled against that, even now. He’d had to leave. Whether he failed or not, his Clanmates could die if catmint wasn’t found. What else could he do but try? He hadn’t been wrong, and he hadn’t failed, not yet. Until he could no longer stand on his paws, he would keep going.

     As he trudged along, the lights grew brighter, and the blurred shapes of dens began to sharpen and grow clear. Hope, faint as it was, began to kindle in Molepaw’s chest. He could see the rough outline of a cluster of dens, much smaller and more spaced out than the gathering-dens. The closer he got, the more his heart began to lighten. This was no gathering-place. This was a proper twolegplace with living-dens and fences and - most importantly - gardens

     He had to cross a smaller thunderpath to reach the dens, buthe was well practiced at crossing such paths at this point, and he made it to the other side without issue. After that, the main thunderpath grew narrower, and lots of smaller paths led off to different dens. Molepaw followed the thunderpath a bit longer, then broke off at the first sight of a den with a garden

     Unnaturally neat rows of stems and scraggly shrubs greeted him as he scaled the fence and leaped down into the garden. The tom froze at the sight of them. There were no flowers, no leafy shrubs, no clumps of catmint. All that was left of the garden were the clipped stems of what had clearly been flowers, and the trimmed remains of bushes.

     “Oh StarClan,” Molepaw breathed aloud, his breath misting in front of his muzzle. Panic was beginning to set in. He'd known that frost could kill many plants, and that sometimes plants wilted or died off in the winter, but he hadn't expected this. The medicine cats had acted like it wasn't unheard of to find catmint during leafbare, just harder, and he knew it was that way for other plants as well. So why would the twolegs destroy their own plants?

     Paws heavy with dread, Molepaw began to root through the garden, desperate for any hint of the leaves he was looking for. But there was nothing, not even a stem. There had never been catmint in this garden. Cold dread was gripping at his heart, but he refused to let himself be frozen by it. The tom left the garden behind and headed to the next, and then the next, and then the next. Each time the despair clawed deeper into his heart. No matter where he looked, no matter what garden he picked through, the answer was the same every time. There was no catmint to be found.

     The cold was biting deep into Molepaw's pelt now. He'd been walking throughout the night, and he could feel exhaustion in every hair on his pelt. The tom stumbled through the snow, leaving his last searched garden behind as he headed around to the front of the den. None of the shrubs he'd seen had been large enough to shelter him from the terrible wind, and he had a horrible feeling that if he tried to sleep out in the cold, he wasn't going to wake back up again. He had to find somewhere safe to pass the night.

     As he came around to the front of the nest, he was surprised to see a monster sitting dormant in the path right in front of the den. It definitely hadn't been there when he'd first gone into the garden – his panic must have kept him from hearing its approach. He crouched low, ready to run if the beast spotted him, but the monster remained motionless in place. As Molepaw crept closer, he noted how the lights that usually blared at the front of the beast were off, and the terrible rumbling noise it made wasn't sounding. If he had to guess, he'd say the monster was asleep.

     A mad idea came to the tom. He slunk low on his belly, creeping closer and closer to the beast, until he was a whisker's length from one of its great, black paws. Though the massive creature was motionless, heat was radiating from its body, and its belly was held just high enough off the snowy ground for a cat to fit under it. If the monster woke, it could kill him in an instant, but it might be his best hope to avoid the cold. He had to chance it.

     Molepaw lowered himself onto his belly and began crawling under the belly of the monster. Snow was piled up near the front paws, but there was just enough scraped away by the back paws for him to fit. He settled himself in beside one of the rear paws, leaning his back against the stinking black paw as he curled into a tight ball. He had barely settled in before a black wave crashed over his vision, and he was dragged into sleep.

     His dreams were dark that night. Shadows flickered all around him, fleeting images of his Clanmates, but he couldn’t reach them no matter how he ran. Light and shadow ebbed and flowed all around him. The ground swayed under his paws. And through it all, the biting cold dig deeper and deeper into his pelt.

     The tom flitted in and out of consciousness. He still lay beside the monster’s wide paw, but the heat was gone. Every scrap of warmth seemed to have been seeped from his bones. The howling wind battered at his ears. He had never felt so cold in his life. _Am I dying?_ He tried to feel fear, but he was too exhausted to manage it.

     New sounds joined the harsh cry of the wind. Unfamiliar cries, high-pitched yelps and yowls, and a deeper cry to answer them, but not from any feline tongue. A harsh light suddenly blared down on Molepaw. Without warning huge, warm paws close around him with surprising gentleness. The last thing he felt was the sensation of being lifted from the ground, then the darkness claimed his vision again.

     It felt like moons passed before he finally crawled out of the darkness and came back to himself. The first thing he felt was warmth. A wonderful, comforting warmth was spreading through his whole body, creeping into his bones and radiating out to the tips of his pelt. Something was laid across his body, something soft and heavy, but the wonderful feeling of warmth blotted out any worries about what had been laid over him. The tom kept his eyes closed, taking a few moments to just enjoy the sensation of warmth on his pelt.

     When Molepaw did finally open his eyes, they flew wider open in shock. He was no longer underneath the belly of the monster. Instead, the sharp walls and roof of a twoleg den surrounded him on all sides. Violent clashes of color and light and shapes he couldn’t recognize hurt his eyes, the sharp angles of the den and the too-neat arrangement of the various objects in the den screaming at his instincts that this was wrong, all wrong.

     Suddenly, something shifted under Molepaw. He turned to look behind himself, only to freeze in shock. A massive, bald paw was settled over his back, which was covered by a thick expanse of something that felt like sheep’s wool. Two legs like thick tree trunks settled under his body and supporting him, and a massive head with brown eyes staring kindly at him looking over his head. Terror pounded in Molepaw’s chest. _A twoleg!_

     The twoleg spoke in his deep rumble, saying words that Molepaw couldn’t understand as his paw stroked Molepaw’s head. The tom was trembling all over in terror. The twoleg gave a soft hushing noise, like a cooing bird, his paw gently stroking Molepaw’s cheek. Behind the twoleg, a bundle of logs was caged in behind some sort of black mesh, flames consuming the bark and flashing its light into the den. Molepaw could feel the heat of the flames near his pelt. His heart seemed to stop.

     “ _Ree-owr!_ ” Molepaw tore himself from the twoleg’s grasp, scrambling off of his legs and leaping to the ground below. He whirled to face the twoleg, every hair on his pelt puffed out in terror, his tail trembling wildly. The twoleg seemed surprised, but he made no move to follow Molepaw. Instead he continued his cooing noise. But that did nothing to stifle Molepaw’s terror. When the twoleg reaches a bald paw out to him, Molepaw scrambled out of range. “Leave me alone!” he wailed.

     He leaped up onto a flat wooden surface in his desperate bid for escape, but the wood was slicker than he’d expected, and he crashed into a clear-colored tube of some kind. It was quickly sent falling to the ground and shattered into pieces with a large crack upon hitting the ground. There was a concerned howl from outside of the den, and suddenly one of the panels on the wall began to peel open, a female twoleg kit peering inside.

     At once, Molepaw saw his chance for escape. Even as the twoleg gave a worried yowl behind him, Molepaw bolted towards the twoleg kit, ignoring her surprised yelp as he tore past her and onto the next part of the den. There was another panel farther ahead of him, with a flimsy-looking flap towards the bottom.

     Molepaw put on an extra burst of speed as the twoleg kit scrambled after him. There was a flash of gray, and he almost thought he heard a feline voice, but he ignored it. He aimed straight for the panel-flap, taking a final bound before leaping at it and easily pushing the flap open. A burst of freezing air as he pushed past the flap and back out into the snow. The tom kept running, igniting the calls of the twolegs behind him as he leaped the nearest fence and left the den behind him.

     Only after multiple fences lay between him and the twoleg nest did he finally allow himself to stop. The apprentice slumped against the nearest fence, trembling wildly from the exhaustion of his run. The cold bite of the air and the snow clinging to his paws and legs was miserable after such comforting warmth, but it was worth bearing just to be out of that nightmare den. He didn’t think he’d ever been so grateful to see the sky over his head or feel snow under his paws before.

     “That was quite a run, Scruffy.” Molepaw nearly jumped out of his pelt at the sound of a mew behind him. He turned, looking up to see a cat crouching on the fence above his head. Amusement sparkled in her green eyes. “I think your paws might have sprouted wings at one point.”

     Molepaw tensed. He rose to his paws, muscles tensed and ready for a fight if necessary. “Who are you?” he demanded.

     An amused purr sounded from the other cat. Upon a closer inspection, Molepaw could see this was no hardened fighter. She had the thicket, softest white pelt he’d ever seen in his life, free of any scars or marks. Her thick pelt almost reminded him of Daisy, though she was much smaller and more delicate in build than the cream queen. Her eyes were a pale green, and a yellow collar was just visible under her thick fluff.

     “I’m Tinkerbell,” the kittypet answered with a flick of her tail. “And what about you, Scruffy? Got a name?”

     Molepaw regarded the kittypet warily, but after a moment, his hackles began to lie flat. This cat didn’t seem ready to start a fight. He couldn't help but be curious – he'd never spoken with a kittypet before. Were they really as soft and lazy as the stories said? “I’m Molepaw,” he answered, giving a flick of his tail in greeting.

     Tinkerbell tipped her head. “Molepaw, huh?” she repeated. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard a name like that before.” She leaped down from the fence, a bell on her collar jingling softly as she did. She didn’t seem remotely intimidated by the larger tom, padding right up to him and sniffing his pelt. “Goodness, you’re thin as a twig!” she meowed. “And you don’t smell like a house cat. Are you one of those wild cats? We don’t get many of those around here.”

     The tom was a bit overwhelmed by Tinkerbell’s slew of questions and cheery tune, but he forced himself to dip his head respectfully and answer, “I am. I live in a forest far from here with my Clan...” At Tinkerbell’s confused look, he backed up, explaining, “Er, other wild cats, my family. We live and hunt together.”

     Tinkerbell’s eyes widened. “You must have been traveling a while to get here,” she mewed. “No wonder you’re so thin, you poor thing.” Molepaw was starting to see even more of Daisy in the she-cat’s fussing over him. She flicked her tail, mewing, “Come on, we need to get you some food.” She started trying to lead him away, but Molepaw held firm.

     “Wait.” Tinkerbell paused, looking curiously at him. A new thought had just come to the tom. He hadn’t been able to find any catmint - but Tinkerbell had to know this Twolegplace better than he did. “I came here to find something,” he told the kittypet. “Do you know if any of the gardens here have catmint?”

     “Catmint?”

     Worry pulsed through his pelt, but he forced himself to explain. “Its a plant with scaly-looking leaves and purple flowers. It has this really amazing smell -”

     “Oh, I know that stuff!” Tinkerbell cut him off. “Yeah, some of the gardens have that, but not many, and it’s usually trimmed away during snow-time so the frost won’t kill it.” She regarded the Clan cat with an amused expression. “You came all this way for a roll in those leaves? Well, that’s dedication, I’ll give you that. They do smell divine, though, so I can’t say I blame you.”

     Molepaw shook his head. “It’s not for me,” he explained. “It’s medicine. My Clanmates, my friends, they’re sick, and catmint is the only thing that can cure them. They could die if I don’t find some.”

     Tinkerbell’s eyes widened in alarm. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” she demanded. Before Molepaw could answer, she was already mewing again, a thoughtful tilt to her head. “I think Annie’s nest has catmint... oh yes, yes, she gave me some to roll in a few moons back! They grow it inside the twoleg nest.”

     Hope burst like a flame inside of Molepaw’s heart. “Really?” he breathed. After last night’s failure and his close brush with death, he’d about resigned himself to failure, but now he was hearing what he needed was just within his grasp. “Do you think this Annie would be willing to give me some for my Clanmates?”

     “Of course she will!” Tinkerbell answered indignantly. Relief crashed over Molepaw like a wave. “You might not be a neighbor of ours, but you and your friends are cats like any of us. None of us would ever let a cat die if we could help it!”

     Molepaw was trembling all over with relief, his legs weak underneath of him. “Thank you,” he breathed. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this will mean to my Clan.”

     Tinkerbell just gave a purr, a warm light in her eyes. “Well come on, fluffbrain,” she teased. “No time to lose!” She set off at a trot, Molepaw following closely behind as she led him out of the fenced area and back the the path connecting the various dens.

     Before they could get very far, however, a yowl rang out. “There you are!” Molepaw turned to see a gray tom bounding towards them, a black-and-white she-cat hard on his heels. The tom's amber eyes were flashing with concern as he approached Molepaw, sniffing the Clan cat's pelt. Molepaw stiffened in surprise. “I saw you running out the door, but I didn't know whether you were strong enough to make it out in the cold, you looked so weak when my house folk brought you inside.”

     “Molepaw, this is Bilbo,” Tinkerbell explained as the tom stepped back. “His house is the one I saw you running from. And that's Pearl, our neighbor.” The black-and-white she-cat dipped her head to Molepaw.

     Bilbo nodded, mewing, “My house folk and his kits found you by the car last night. You were half frozen – you would have died if they hadn't brought you inside to warm you up.”

     Guilt pricked at Molepaw's pelt. He'd been in such a panic upon waking up in that strange den that he hadn't taken a moment to think how he'd gotten there. He'd never been around twolegs before, only hearing stories about them and seeing them from afar, and his first instinct had been fear. Now that he thought about it, the twoleg's voice had been kind, and his paws gentle when holding the tom. It made sense that the twoleg had brought him inside to help him. “I believe it,” he rumbled, dipping his head to the kittypet tom. “I'm sorry if I scared your house folk – I'm grateful for what they did. I'm just not used to being in twoleg dens like that.”

     “You certainly don't look like you spend much time inside,” Pearl mewed critically. Her golden gaze swept over Molepaw's skinny frame. “You should really get new house folk – yours don't seem to feed you very well.”

     “He doesn't have house folk. He's a wild cat!” Tinkerbell explained.

     Understanding glowed in Bilbo's eyes. “That explains why you ran out of there so fast,” he realized. “I can imagine how scary it would be to wake up in a den like that if you've never been in one before.”

     Molepaw ducked his head. “I still wish I hadn't run out of there like a scared mouse,” he admitted. “That twoleg was only trying to help... I wish there was a way to thank him.”

     “Don't worry about it,” Bilbo mewed, giving Molepaw a friendly nudge with his shoulder. “Tell you what – why don't you catch a mouse before you leave the neighborhood and leave it on their doorstep? They never seem to hunt for themselves, and they're always really grateful when I bring them a catch. It'd be a way to let them know you're okay, anyway.”

     Molepaw tipped his head thoughtful. It was an odd idea, hunting and giving prey to a twoleg like he would for a Clanmate. But that sort of distinction didn't seem to matter just now, not when these kittypets and their house folk were being so warm and welcoming to him. “That's a promise,” he mewed.

     “Not right now, though,” Tinkerbell protested. She glared at her fellow kittypets, mewing importantly, “Molepaw's here on a special mission. We have to get catmint from Annie – come on!” She set off briskly, leaving Molepaw and the other kittypets to fall in behind her. The tiny kittypet headed briskly for one den and strode straight up to the front panel – what Bilbo had called a door. “Hey Annie!” she yowled, scratching lightly at the wooden frame around the door with her claws. “Are you home?”

     Molepaw tensed, ready to run if any twolegs answered her call instead. Tinkerbell glanced at him, understanding glowing in her eyes. “Relax, wild cat,” she mewed, amusement sparking in her eyes. “The house folk’s car isn’t in front of the house, so that means they’re not home. It’ll just be Annie.” Bilbo nodded agreement, Pearl flicking her tail. Tinkerbell's words were unfamiliar to Molepaw, and he had no idea what they were supposed to mean, but he could sense the comforting intent in her mew. He gave her a grateful nod, then turned his attention back to the den entrance.

     After a few moments, a small ginger tabby slipped through the flap on the panel. She fluffed out her short pelt, green eyes flashing with annoyance. “Goodness’ sake, Tink, what’s all the yowling about? You could’ve just come inside rather than dragging me out in the...” The tabby trailed off as she noticed Molepaw. Her glowed with unease as she seemed to take in his large, ragged appearance. Clearly Tinkerbell’s friendly lack of fear didn’t extend to all kittypets. “Who’s this?” she asked carefully.

     “Molepaw, this is my friend Annie,” Tinkerbell explained, apparently oblivious to her friend’s unease. “Annie, meet Molepaw. He’s a real wild cat!”

     “My house folk brought him in from the cold last night,” Bilbo added.

     Annie was still watching Molepaw warily, so the tom dipped his head in a respectful greeting, flicking his tail in a friendly way to put her at ease. “It’s good to meet you,” he rumbled.

     The tabby stilled seemed uncertain, but something in her posture loosened at his friendly tone. “Likewise,” she mewed.

     Tinkerbell quickly explained the tom’s situation to her friend, Bilbo and Pearl listening intently. Annie’s expression softened as she heard of the Clans’ dire plight. “That sounds terrible,” she murmured, sympathy glowing in her eyes. “My house folk keep a bunch of catmint in the sunroom - they’ll notice if it’s taken, but that doesn’t matter as much as helping sick cats.” She turned her gaze to Molepaw, asking, “How much do you need?”

     “As much as you can spare,” Molepaw answered honestly. “More cats could have gotten sick while I was away, and the other Clans will need catmint too. I probably can’t bring enough back in one trip for everyone, but now that I’ve found a source of catmint my Clan can send more cats to gather whatever else is needed when I get back.”

     He knew some cats wouldn’t appreciate him worrying about all four Clans when his own was in such need, but he knew he could never leave any cat to suffer if he could help them, Clanmate or not. He’d seen how dearly his own Clanmates had suffered at the loss of their kin, and his own loss - the other Clans cared just as deeply for their own cats. He wouldn’t subject them to the same loss.

     Annie nodded, looking thoughtful. “My house folk might keep a closer eye on their catmint after you take your load,” she mused. “But I think there’s another den or two in the area with catmint. If you send your... Clanmates, was it? If you send your Clanmates to my den, I can point them in the right direction to those dens, and they can gather more there.” She straightened up, her tail giving a determined lash. “For now, I’ll gather as much as you can carry for you to take with you.”

     Fear pricked at Molepaw's pelt at the thought of entering a twoleg den again, but the idea of finally getting the herbs the Clans needed was giving him new courage. “I could help you,” he offered.

     Before Annie could reply, Tinkerbell cut her off with an affronted mew. “Certainly not! You need some food, wild cat, or a stray wind could knock you over.” Molepaw had been distracted from it with the news of available catmint, but he realized that his legs had started shaking with exhaustion again. It seemed the strength the warm twoleg den had lent him was beginning to wear off. Tinkerbell nudged him with her shoulder, mewing, “Come on, Oreo's house folk always give her too much food, that's always a good place to get an extra meal.”

     “I can get the catmint while you eat,” Annie offered. “I'll meet you at Oreo's place when I'm done.”

     Bilbo brushed against Molepaw's side, purring, “Come on, you're not making it all the way back to your forest as thin as you are. You need to eat something before you leave.”

     Molepaw stared at the kittypets around him, briefly struggling for words. Though he'd known great warriors who had once been kittypets, he'd somehow never stopped to take any view of kittypets other than being soft and lazy. But the cats he was with now were so much more than that – and they reminded him more of his Clan than he would have ever thought possible. They might live differently than him, but that loyalty and love for each other, and that compassion for others, was there in the kindness they were showing him. Warmth swelled up in his chest. Cats relying on each other, loyalty repaying loyalty, love repaying love – that was what he'd come to treasure since the Dark Battle, and now he could see it wasn't just within the Clans. There was so much more in the world than the things he'd been scared of. Now, more than ever, he knew that he had made the right choice.

     “Thank you,” he murmured, trying to put all of what he felt into the two words. “I'd be glad to eat with you – lead the way.” Tinkerbell gave a pleased mew, then set off, leaving Molepaw and the other kittypets to fall in behind her. As Annie headed back into her den and Molepaw followed Tinkerbell and the others, his heart filled with contentment. His quest was at an end. Now all that remained was to return to his Clan, and put an end to this nightmare disease once and for all. He had done it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really wishing I added all these kittypets to the allegiances for the novella, but I hadn't thought of them being included in this scene at the time. Oh well, the Tribe weren't included in the Moonrise allegiances despite starring in most of the book, I guess that works here too since they don't live close to Clan territory. :P
> 
> No deaths to report in this chapter, which is a nice change of pace. :P The kittypet names are all references, because of course they are, so we'll talk about that first I guess. Tinkerbell should be obvious as a reference to Peter Pan - I was just in Disney World, so it felt appropriate to name one of the characters after an iconic Disney character, and Tinkerbell is a great name for a cat anyway. ^^
> 
> Bilbo is named after the Lord of the Rings character. While I prefer Lord of the Rings as a story over The Hobbit, I've always liked Bilbo the most as a main character. Frodo's fine, but Bilbo's just got such a great personality, sort of stuffy and formal and yet rebellious and adventerous at the same time while never losing his down-to-earth hobbit charm. And I think it's a cute name for a kittypet. ^^
> 
> Pearl is named after the Steven Universe character. I haven't really watched the show in full, but I've watched a ton of clips and even a few full episodes on YouTube and I really like what I've seen. I picked Pearl to use here because I freaking adore her son It's Over Isn't It and I like Pearl as a character, what I've seen of her anyway.
> 
> Annie is named after the Broadway musical of the same name, mostly the 1999 film version (which in my opinion is vastly superior to the more well-known version from the 80's.) I'm pretty "eh" on the 80's version, but I really love the 99 one and I watch it a lot, so I felt I might as well reference it here.
> 
> This chapter turned out longer than I meant it to, and the kittypet stuff goes on for a while, but I think it's fitting as a tie in to the themes of family and compassion in this novella, and how Molepaw is sort of solidifying his worldview. This one took a while, but it was a really fun one to write. ^^
> 
> Only two chapters left. ^^ I don't imagine they'll take terribly long to write, but we'll see.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon his return...

Warriors Series 5.5: Echoes of the War  
Novella 6: Molefoot's Loss  
Chapter Nine

     “Molepaw?!”  
     “Look, it’s Molepaw!”  
     “StarClan, it’s really him!”  
     “He’s back!”

      Joyful cries rang through the camp as the patrol led Molepaw into camp. The tom held his tail high, pride surging through his blood. In his jaws, he held the prize he’d left his Clan to seek.

     Leafpool was the first to notice what he held. “You... you found it!” she gasped, gaping at the leaves held in his jaws and tucked under his chin. “You found catmint! Oh thank StarClan, you did it!”

     Molepaw purred, allowing the former medicine cat to take the herbs as she stretched her muzzle forward for them. “I just hope it’s enough,” he told her. “I carried what I could. I know the other Clans need those leaves too, I wanted to bring enough for all of them.”

     “We can worry about sending a patrol for more later,” a voice behind him mewed. Molepaw turned to see Squirrelflight standing behind him, dismissing the patrol that had found Molepaw and brought him home with a lash of her tail. Though exhaustion still lined her face, there was warmth and pride blazing in her eyes. “This is a day to celebrate - and I think there’s a fair few of your Clanmates who’d like to welcome you back.”

     Molepaw dipped his head to the deputy. “Yes, Squirrelflight,” he purred. As Squirrelflight and Leafpool headed for the medicine den, the crowd pressed in around Molepaw, calling out questions and yowls of astonishment and thanks. Molepaw made no effort to answer all of the competing voices. He just closed his eyes, contentment washing over him as he felt the pelts of his beloved Clanmates pressed against his own. Finally, he was home.

     “Molepaw.” The familiar mew drew the tom’s attention. He opened his eyes to see Brightheart standing before him. The aging warrior looked more ragged and tired than when he had last seen her, but there was a warm light in her eye. She brushed her muzzle against his in a rumbling purr of greeting. “Welcome home.”

     Molepaw dipped his head to his mentor. “I’m sorry for leaving without telling anyone,” he mewed. “I didn’t want any cat to stop me.”

     “Don’t worry about it,” Brightheart purred. “Rosepetal told us where you’d gone after we realized you were missing, and we knew to hope for your return.” She purred, curling her tail in a contented manner. “What matters is that you’re home now.” Her eye glittered with joy. “I’m so proud of you, Molepaw. You’ve brought us a great gift - and now you’re home where you belong.”

     Molepaw purred deeply, his heart ready to burst with pride at his mentor’s praise. As Brightheart and some of the other cats began to step back, however, his attention was drawn to a particular cream queen standing at the nursery entrance. All other thoughts flew from his mind. He pushed past the crowd, bounding arose the camp to reach her. “Rosepetal!”

     Pure bliss glowed in Molepaw’s heart as he embraced his mate. He rubbed his muzzle against her neck, breathing in her scent and purring fiercely as she leaned into his embrace. “Oh Molepaw,” Rosepetal breathed, nestling her cheek against his neck fur. “Thank StarClan you’re back.” She pulled back, staring at him with shining eyes. “I was worried you wouldn’t make it back before the little ones arrived.”

     “Of course not,” Molepaw purred. He brushed his tail against Rosepetal’s belly, which was far more swollen with her kits than when he’d left. It looked like she was mere days from birthing. Love surged in his chest. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world.”

     The couple settled onto their haunches, leaning their weight against each other as they sat side by side. Molepaw laid his chin over Rosepetal’s head, her cheek pressed against his neck. Their purrs blended together, loud enough to drown out anything else around them. All of Molepaw’s worries and pains from the last moons melted away. With the cat he loved beside him, and their kits safe in their care, all felt right in the world.

     “Molepaw!” The tranquility was broken by a nearby yowl. Molepaw looked up to see a familiar tortoiseshell and cream tom racing in from the thorn tunnel and bounding towards him. Rosepetal stepped back so Molepaw’s parents could embrace him. Berrynose was shaking all over as he butted his head against Molepaw’s neck, and Poppyfrost was purring like all of LionClan as she pressed against his side. “Foxleap told us you were back, we got here as fast as we could,” Poppyfrost explained.

     “Thank StarClan you're back,” Berrynose said in a shaky mew. He laid his head over Molepaw's neck, placing a paw on his back and clinging to him tightly, as though afraid he'd disappear if he let go. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

     “I'm fine,” Molepaw assured him. He leaned into the embrace of his parents, allowing himself to take comfort in their closeness. For a moment, he felt like a kit again, safe and content in their embrace, with no greater worry than his next game with Cherryleaf.

     Thinking of his sister brought all of his grief rushing back. Ever since it had happened, he'd been using his mission to find catmint to distract himself from his grief. His determination and his focus on helping his Clan had allowed him to push his grief to the back of his mind. But now, his mission was over, and there was nothing to distract him from the ache in his heart. He sighed and pulled back from his parents. “I... I keep waiting for Cherrypaw to push her way out of our den and tell me I'm a mousebrain for not getting home sooner,” he admitted. He could feel the empty space beside him where Cherryleaf so often stood, the chill of grief in his heart. His mew broke as he admitted, “I miss her so much.”

     “Oh Molepaw.” Poppyfrost's eyes were shining with grief, Molepaw's own hurt reflected in their amber depths. She pressed her muzzle against his neck, giving his head a few comforting licks, like she had when he was a kit. “I do too. I miss her every day.”

     “We both do,” Berrynose rumbled, his mew breaking with grief. He pressed his head against Molepaw's cheek. “She was so young... so full of life. She deserved so much more than she got, and I don't know how to accept that she died and I get to keep on living.”

     Poppyfrost pulled back and blinked slowly at her son. Soft understanding glowed in her eyes. “I know how close you and Cherrypaw were,” she murmured. “I know how hard it is to lose a littermate – when Molepaw and Honeyfern died, it felt like nothing would ever be right with the world again.” Grief sparked in Berrynose's eyes at her words. “You're allowed to grieve, Molepaw. Don't feel like you have to push it away. You've done so much for your Clan by bringing this catmint back to us – but you need to remember to take care of yourself as well.” She pressed against Berrynose's side, mewing, “Your father and I are always here for you, Molepaw. We can grieve together, and we'll find a way to put our lives back together as one.” Berrynose said nothing, but firmly nodded his agreement.

     Gratitude swelled up in Molepaw's chest. Having his own mission to avenge his sister's death had made the grief easier to bear – but now, there was an even greater comfort in having loved ones to turn to in his grief, knowing that his work was done and the disease would threaten his Clan no longer. “Thank you,” he rasped. “I'd like that.” Poppyfrost said nothing, but her eyes shone with love, and a low purr was rumbling in her throat.

     “Molepaw.” The tom looked over his shoulder to see Lilypaw standing behind him. She dipped her head respectfully to the older apprentice, awe shining in her eyes. “Bramblestar wants to speak with you,” she informed the tom.

     He gave a small nod of acknowledgment. “I'll be right there,” he assured Lilypaw. After exchanging a final farewell with his parents and mate, Molepaw set off for the leader's den. He quickly scaled the rocks leading up to the den, pulling himself onto the ledge and making his way into the cave. In the dim light, he could only just see the outline of his leader lying in his nest. “Bramblestar?” he mewed uncertainly.

     “Molepaw.” The mew that greeted him was raspier than when he'd last heard it. As his sight adjusted to the dark cave, Molepaw was finally able to see his leader. Bramblestar was lying on his belly, his front legs stretched out before him and his fluffy tail curled around his body. The stench of sickness hung in the air of the cave. Bramblestar's pelt was ragged and mussed, his frame far too thin for his bulky size, and exhaustion was clear in the hunch of his shoulders and the weary set to his expression. But there was no streaming from his nose, and his gaze was clear and focused. “So you're back,” the leader rasped.

     “I am,” Molepaw mewed in an even tone. He faced his leader calmly, dipping his head in respect but otherwise not making the first move. He knew that he could very well be facing punishment for what he had done, but he was prepared to accept that. Whatever punishment Bramblestar could bestow would be a fair exchange for not being there to hunt for his Clanmates in their time of need – and it would be worth bearing knowing that his efforts had helped save his Clan.

     Bramblestar's gaze swept slowly over the apprentice. After several moments, he finally rasped, “What you did not only endangered your life, it put the whole Clan at risk. We live by relying on our Clanmates and serving them in turn. Every cat has an important part to play – yours was supposed to be here, hunting for your sick Clanmates. You understand that, don't you?”

     Molepaw met his leader's gaze calmly. “Yes, I do,” he mewed. “And I am truly sorry for the time I missed here. But I believed that our need for catmint was greater than the need for one cat to remain hunting for the Clan.”

     “That is my decision to make, not yours,” Bramblestar rumbled. His gaze was stern, but there was no anger in his mew, only a calm sort of nobility. “I was made the leader of this Clan for a reason. Part of my job is to assess the risks of each action our Clan could take, and decide what risks we must take for the sake of the Clan.”

     “I know that, but I also knew you would never ask any cat to go alone,” Molepaw mewed carefully. “I believed I had a chance to find what we needed, but I didn't want to burden you with the choice of making me go alone.” He drew himself up, meeting his leader's stare evenly. “I know why what I did was dangerous, and I'm sorry for keeping it a secret,” he said in a clear mew. “I will take any punishment you give me. But I'm not sorry that I made my choice to leave, and I'm not sorry that I found what I was looking for. I just hope it's enough to help our Clanmates.”

     Bramblestar regarded Molepaw for several more moments. When he finally spoke again, there was new warmth in his mew. “I wish you had told me what you were planning,” he rasped. “A warrior must be able to trust in his leader. But I understand why you did it, and I honor your courage in making such a journey alone. You have a good heart, young Molepaw.”

     The tom blinked, surprised at the leader's high praise. “Thank you, Bramblestar,” he mewed. He waited for the tom to continue, perhaps to list whatever punishment was coming, but he said nothing. Finally, the tom decided to ask his own question instead. “Did anything... happen while I was gone?”

     “You mean, did any more cats die?” Bramblestar rumbled. “Unfortunately, yes. Thornclaw passed away only a few days after you left, and Hazeltail’s litter didn’t make it to their kitting. I also lost a life the day before last.” Grief pricked at Molepaw's heart. No wonder Brightheart had looked so tired when he'd seen her – she was grieving her littermate. He couldn’t imagine her grief at losing two brothers so close together, or Hazeltail and Foxleap’s at losing their litter. “But other than that, we haven't lost any more cats, thank StarClan. And hopefully, now that we have the catmint you brought home, we won't have to lose any more.” He gazed at Molepaw, asking in a more urgent tone, “If I send a patrol to look for more catmint, can you tell them the path that you took to get there?”

     “Absolutely,” Molepaw assured him. “The kittypets who led me to the catmint have already promised to greet any of my Clanmates with the same generosity, and the path to their twolegplace is fairly easy to follow.” He hesitated, then mewed, “But if it's alright, Bramblestar, I would prefer not to be on that patrol.” Warmth glowed in his chest. “I want to be here when my kits arrive.”

     There was a warm light in Bramblestar's eyes. “Of course,” he rumbled. “You may go back to your family now, Molepaw, and rest for tonight. Just be ready for tomorrow's patrols.”

     Molepaw dipped his head to the leader, then turned away, beginning to pad to the cave entrance. Before he reached it, however, a mew called him back. “Oh, and Molepaw?” He turned to face his leader once more, surprised at the warmth shining in his eyes. “Thank you,” he mewed simply.

     Pride and joy and gratitude all welled up in Molepaw's chest together, He dipped his head to his leader, trying to convey all that he felt, before turning and leaving the den behind him.

**SCENEBREAK**

     “Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the High Ledge for a Clan meeting!”

     Molepaw looked up, surprised at the call. It was sunset now, the golden light of the sun spilling out onto the camp, and the Clan had settled in to feed for the night. The excitement of Molepaw's return had finally started to wear down over the course of the day, and now the tom was just sharing a starling with his mate. Though it was too soon to tell for sure, Jayfeather had said that the herbs were already having a great effect on Spiderleg and Birchfall, and Daisy had finally been able to keep some food down. Molepaw was bursting with joy when he heard the news. He'd really done something to help his Clan.

     He and Rosepetal left their starling behind, joining the rest of the Clan as they gathered under the High Ledge. Bramblestar looked as ragged and thin as before as he stood on the ledge, but there was a certain strength back in his eyes now, a fierce joy that made him seem every bit the noble leader he ever had been.

     “Warriors of ThunderClan, you all know by now the blessing that StarClan has sent to us,” he called out for every cat to hear. “Our sick cats are already feeling the effects of their treatment, and Jayfeather assures me that some of the catmint can be replanted to regrow our own stores. Though we still have a long way to go, we have finally taken our first steps to rid ourselves of this terrible disease and end this period of suffering.”

     Triumphant yowls rose up from the crowd, the first Molepaw had heard in seasons. ThunderClan had been so beaten down by this disease – but now, they had hope again, and they had the spirit to fight again. Bramblestar allowed their cheers to continue for a while longer, then waved his tail for silence. “But it is not just StarClan we have to thank for this gift,” he rumbled. “One cat risked everything he had to save his Clan from this terrible illness, and walked a lonely path to serve his Clan. For far too long, this cat has been waiting for the full honor of a Clan warrior to be bestowed on him – but he must wait no longer. Step forward, Molepaw!”

     Molepaw froze in shock. Rosepetal was purring beside him, and he could hear the cheers of his parents and friends in the crowd, but he couldn't make a sound himself. He'd known this day was coming, he'd known it couldn't be long, but to be so publicly singled out and praised... it was more than he'd ever hoped for.

     Slowly, still in something of a daze, Molepaw made his way through the crowd and to the base of the High Ledge. Bramblestar leaped off of the edge and came to stand before Molepaw. Pride was gleaming in his eyes.

     As he waited for his leader to begin the ceremony, grief swept over Molepaw once more, and he could feel a lump forming in his throat. There was a cat who should be standing beside him today. For a moment, he wasn't sure if he could go forward, knowing that she would never have this honor bestowed on her, that she would never walk beside him again, or get to live the life she'd wanted so desperately. But then, after taking a deep breath, Molepaw drew himself up to his full height. He would always miss Cherryleaf, but there was nothing he could do to bring her back, and he still had his own life to live. He would not let loss destroy what he still had.

     “I, Bramblestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice,” the leader called out for every cat to hear. Pride blazed in Molepaw's heart as he heard the words he'd waited to hear for so many moons. “He has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend him to you as a warrior in his turn.” The dark tabby lowered his head, meeting Molepaw's gaze. “Molepaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code, and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?” he asked.

     Molepaw lifted his chin, meeting his leader's gaze proudly. For so long, he'd been afraid of what such a promise meant, of whether he was ready to commit so much of his life to such a dangerous cause. But now, after all he'd suffered, after all he'd faced and done, he knew exactly what his answer was. “I do,” he said in a strong mew.

     “Then by the power of StarClan, I give you your warrior name,” Bramblestar rumbled. “Molepaw, from this moment on you will be known as Molefoot. Your feet have walked a hard path for your Clan, and you had to walk very far and long in your service to your Clanmates. But your paws have always been steady, no matter how dangerous the path, and now we honor you for it. StarClan honors your courage and your loyalty, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.”

     The newly-named warrior lowered his head, allowing Bramblestar to lay his chin over of it. All around the clearing, the voices of his beloved Clanmates were crying out his new name in golden tones. “Molefoot! Molefoot! Molefoot!” Joy welled up in Molefoot's heart. He'd had to walk a hard path to get to this day, and he'd faced so much loss and uncertainty and fear. But after everything he'd been through, after everything he'd suffered, he knew exactly where he belonged and where he wanted to be.

     For a moment, a familiar scent was on the air, and a warm pelt brushed against his own. Molefoot stiffened in surprise. The scent and pelt were gone before he could so much as turn to look, but there was no need. He knew exactly who it had been. Warmth stirred in his heart. Though they would never be together again in life, his sister walked beside him still, and he knew that he had made her proud.

     And now, he would live a life to make all of his Clanmates proud, for the rest of his days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a surprisingly easy chapter to write. ^^ So here we are, second to last chapter of Molefoot’s Loss! :D
> 
> First, the deaths, of which there is only one permanent one in this chapter. Thornclaw was led to StarClan by his brother Brackenfur. Hazeltail’s kits were led to StarClan by Ferncloud, who is acting as a mother to them. I’ll post names and descriptions for them leader. I wasn’t sure whether to send them to StarClan since they hadn’t been born yet, but if Bright Stream’s not born kits can go, why not Hazeltail’s? At least we know why she was in the nursery during Faded Boundaries’ prologue now.
> 
> We get to see Molepaw return to his Clan, and we also finally get to see him earn his warrior name. Pretty sure I’ve said this before, but Molefoot is named after one of my very first RP character, a very noble and wise smoke-patterned deputy with a long pelt and a squashed face and a long pelt, and a secret medicine cat mate in another Clan.
> 
> This Molefoot’s description was already decided by canon, and I wasn’t going to twist the story just to make him deputy with a medicine cat mate, but the name and that sense of calm wisdom got carried over. I’d always wanted to see that name used, and it was great finally getting to show him receiving it and Bramblestar’s reason for choosing it.
> 
> Only one chapter left y’all. I know this chapter felt like it wrapped up everything pretty well, but there’s one more loose thread to tie up, one more thing I want to show. There’ll be a bit of a time skip, but not a huge one like the end of some of my other novellas.
> 
> I don’t think the next chapter should take me too long. ^^ After that, there’ll probably be a good wait before the next novella. I have some other stuff I want to work on. But until then, I hope Molefoot’s Loss has been enough to tide you over, and I hope you enjoy the final chapter. ^^  
> Also, because I totally forgot to advertise this last time - there is now a French translation of EOTW! :D Ahh, I’m loving all of these translations! Here’s a link, check it out if you read French, or just stare at it in uncomprehending awe if you’re like me and don’t read French. XD [LINK TO FRENCH TRANSLATION](https://www.quotev.com/story/11331471/La-Guerre-des-Clans-Les-%C3%89chos-de-la-Guerre-Les-Fronti%C3%A8res-D%C3%A9lav%C3%A9/2)


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new life begins...

Warriors Series 5.5: Echoes of the War  
Novella 6: Molefoot's Loss  
Chapter Ten

     A brisk breeze wove its way through the camp. The sun had reached its highest point in the sky, and the light that bounced off of the snow draped all over the camp was nearly blinding. The camp was fairly empty, most cats out hunting or patrolling, but there was no tranquility in the lazy mid-day lull. Instead, a piercing wail sounded from the nursery.

     Molefoot was pacing in front of the nursery, his tail lashing in a fearful rhythm behind him. He had tried to push his way into the den when Rosepetal’s kitting had begun, but Jayfeather and Leafpool had forced him out and told him to let them work.

     That had been earlier in the morning - now the day was stretching on, and there had been no word from the medicine cat. The wait was agony. Every time Rosepetal cried out, he longed to race to her side, but he knew there was nothing he could do to make the birthing easier. All he could do was wait.

     “Nervous?” Molefoot turned to see Brightheart standing behind him, a knowing gleam in her eye.

     Molefoot gave an anxious flick of his ear, settling onto his haunches as Brightheart did the same. “More than I think I’ve ever been,” he admitted. He glanced back towards the nursery. “It’s been so long. I don’t know whether to think something’s wrong, or whether they’re here yet... I just want this to be over.”

     Brightheart’s whiskers twitched. “Oh, the kitting itself is only the beginning,” she teased. “Once the kitting is over, you’re not just a warrior anymore - you’re a parent. That’s a whole different kind of responsibility.” Her teasing expression softened, a gentle light in her blue eye. “Are you scared?” she asked.

     Molefoot paused, considering her question. There was definitely fear in his heart, how could there not be? Having such helpless lives depending on him was a huge responsibility. A few moons ago, he would have been terrified out of his pelt. He didn’t know if he could have been able to face it then.

     But he wasn’t the same scared, uncertain tom he’d been only a few moons ago. He had only been a warrior for a little under half a moon, but so much had changed in the short time since he’d first left the Clan.

     A patrol had been sent to collect more catmint, and the herb had been distributed among all of the Clans. The cats who had been treated were showing remarkable improvement. Birchfall, Mousewhisker, and Blossomfall had recovered almost completely, and Daisy was back on her paws and helping look after the camp, though she still stayed away from the kits for fear of them catching her illness. Spiderleg and Sorreltail were slower to heal, but they were both doing far better than before. They had both announced their intentions to move into the elder’s den once they were fully recovered, and Brightheart and Cloudtail had moved there a few days after Molefoot’s warrior ceremony.

     So many changes had come over the Clan in such a short time. So many of the senior members of the Clan when Molefoot had started his training were either dead or retired, and they had lost one of the noblest leaders the forest had ever seen. But they had gained so much in that time as well. New kits had been born, apprentices had started their training, friendships had started, loves had blossomed. Through all of the loss, the Clans had kept on living, and now a new life was about to begin. Molefoot knew there was much to be scared of, but there was also so much to treasure in this life, and he knew he would never let his fear hold him back from enjoying the good in his life again.

     “I can’t wait,” he mewed honestly.

     Brightheart’s expression softened into joy. “I’m so happy for you, Molefoot,” she murmured. She touched her nose briefly to his cheek, giving a friendly purr. “I know that you’re going to be a wonderful father.”

     An answering purr rumbled in Molefoot’s chest. Before he could speak in reply, however, there was a nearby rustling. Both cats turned to see Jayfeather standing in the entrance to the nursery. There was an unusual friendliness in his expression as he mewed, “You can come in now, Molefoot.”

     The tom froze. Joy and fear pounded as one in his heart. “Are... are they all okay?” he asked. “Rosepetal and the kits?”

     “All three of them are fine,” Jayfeather assured him. Relief crashed over the tom, leaving him woozy from the force of it. Amusement glittered in Jayfeather’s blind eyes. “Congratulations, Molefoot. You have two healthy sons.”

      Joy was trembling just under his pelt. _Sons. I have two sons. I’m a father._ The words didn’t feel real. Everything around him had a dreamy lightness to it, all of the sounds around him muffled except the beat of his own heart. He didn’t know if he’d ever felt a joy like this before in his life. _I’m a father._

     “Well, go on, slowpaws.” Molefoot was jolted out of his stunned silence by Jayfeather. Though his mew was gruff, there was a warmth in his blind eyes that told Molefoot he was feeling the joy of the moment as well. “Don't keep Rosepetal waiting.”

     Brightheart bumped her head against Molefoot's neck with an amused purr. “Go on,” she said in an encouraging mew. “Go meet your sons.”

     Molefoot rose onto shaking paws, stumbling his way to the nursery as he tried to control his own trembling. He left his Clanmates behind as he pushed his way into the nursery.

     As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the den, he saw the outlines of the queens lying in their nests. Hazeltail was the newest arrival – not long after losing her first litter, the she-cat had discovered she was expecting kits again. Jayfeather was much more confident about the chances of this litter from what Molefoot had heard. Daisy's nest was still empty, but Molefoot knew it was only a matter of time before she returned to her nursery duties.

     A tiny ginger head peeked out from Cinderheart's nest, two green eyes staring curiously at Molefoot. Before Blazekit could investigate further, however, Silentkit leaped on him with a gleeful mew, tackling her brother to the ground. Molefoot's whiskers twitched in amusement. Ever since the Clan had realized that Silentkit was blind, there had been doubts that she would ever get to be a warrior, but Molefoot wasn't so sure. Blind she may be, but even as young as she was, he could see a warrior's spirit in her. Either way, she and Blazekit were both kind young cats, and would be good denmates for his kits.

      _My kits._ Molefoot's gaze was finally drawn to Rosepetal. The cream queen was stretched out in her nest, exhaustion lining her face, and joy glowing in her eyes. By her belly were two small lumps of fur.

     Molefoot's breath caught. For a moment, he was frozen in place, awed by the tiny, delicate lives his mate had brought into the world. Then he finally approached on shaking paws. “They're so tiny...” he murmured, crouching before his mate and lowering his muzzle to his kits. The scruffy cream-and-white tom wriggled a little as Molefoot's whiskers brushed his back, letting out a tiny mew. His light brown littermate just kneaded even harder at his mother's belly and kicked out weakly with his little back legs. “So beautiful.” Love, greater than anything he'd ever known, filled up his entire pelt until he felt ready to burst from it. “Oh Rosepetal, they're perfect,” he breathed. “And they're ours.”

     He could see the same love he felt shining in Rosetpetal's eyes as she gazed at their kits. She gave a soft purr, lowering her muzzle to give the cream-and-white tom a few swift licks. “I can't believe how wonderful they are,” she admitted. “I love them so much already.” She lifted her gaze back to Molefoot for a moment, then pressed her muzzle against his, purring deeply. “Are you ready to name them?” she asked.

     Molefoot's gaze swept over the kits. “There's two of them,” he murmured. “Why don't you name one, and I'll name the other?”

     Rosepetal nodded her agreement. She gazed thoughtfully at the kits for a few moments, before touching her nose to the cream-and-white tom's pelt. “How about Sparkkit for him?” she suggested in a purr. “For his spiky pelt, like sparks leaping from a flame – and for Firestar.”

     “Sparkkit,” Molefoot repeated, gazing at his son. The kit was only just born, but Molefoot could already imagine the strength of fire within him. He would carry the name of the great ThunderClan leader well. “It's perfect. Sparkkit it is.”

     With their first son named, Molefoot turned his attention to Sparkkit's brother. This tom had a smooth, short pelt, unlike both of his fluffy parents, but his light brown fur definitely bore a resemblance to both of them. He had a white chest and muzzle, and his front legs were splashed with white. Countless names raced through Molefoot's mind as he contemplated the kit.

     Part of him wanted to name his son after one of the cats who had touched his life in some important way – Cherryleaf, or maybe his parents or one of the kittypets who had helped him. But somehow, he felt he wouldn't be doing it for the right reasons. He would always love the cats he had lost, but he couldn't bring them back by keeping their names alive. This young kit was his own cat, and deserved his own name and his own place in Molefoot's heart.

     Finally, a new idea came to Molefoot. He gave a small purr as he touched his nose to his son's pelt. “How about Lightkit?” he suggested. “For his light pelt – and the light he has brought into our lives.”

     “That sounds perfect,” Rosepetal purred. She curled her tail around her kits, Molefoot shifting closer so he could gaze at his kits. “Lightkit and Sparkkit. Welcome to the world, my little ones.” Rosepetal gave a contented sigh, laying her head onto her paws.

     That same contentment glowed in Molefoot's heart. He gazed at his kits, a fierce love for them swelling up in his chest. That whole leafbare, darkness and doubt had ruled his life, and the pain of loss had nearly destroyed him. But there was so much more to the world than darkness. There was life and love and good, and so much that could be celebrated. His son carried a name that honored the light and good that there was in this life, for all of the good that Molefoot was grateful for in his own life, and the light that Molefoot hoped would come into his son's life. There had been loss and grief, but he had come out of all of it stronger, and now he had two perfect sons and a mate that he loved. He had never felt so happy in his life.

      _The world can be a scary place, little ones,_ he thought as he touched his nose to Lightkit's pelt, then to Sparkkit's. _But there is so much more than the scary things, and I will be beside you for all of the good and bad, no matter what._

      _I promise._

END OF NOVELLA SIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this chapter is ridiculously short, so sorry about that, but making it any longer just felt like it was dragging out. Oh well, at least you didn’t have to wait long for it. So here it is, the very last chapter of Molefoot’s Loss! :D There aren’t any extra Allegiances or anything coming after this either, so it really is the end.
> 
> Here we finally get to see the birth of Lightkit and Sparkkit. :D I’ve stated the reasons for Sparkkit’s name in the past, but I wanted to go more into the reasons for Lightkit’s name. ^^ Odd how the reasons for his name ended up as such a contrast to Darkbreeze, I didn’t have that in mind when I planned it, but I like how it turned out that way. ^^
> 
> We also get a glimpse of Silentpaw and Blazepaw as kits. ^^ I normally dislike prequels that really lay heavy into the foreshadowing or coincidences for what happens in the main series, so I tried to avoid doing too much of that, but I felt Molefoot’s thoughts here about Silentkit were fitting. After all, he’s the first to speak in Silentpaw’s defense about training as a warrior in the very first chapter of Faded Boundaries, so it’s been established for literal years that he thought from early on that she had the right to train as a warrior. So that’s why that’s there. ^^
> 
> I think that’s all I wanted to say about this particular chapter. Thank you once again to everyone who read and commented on this novella, and for those who have followed and supported EOTW in general. I really appreciate all of your likes and comments and your general support. :D I really hope you enjoyed this look into the events between The Last Hope and Faded Boundaries, and getting to see Molefoot’s story.
> 
> Like I said, I have some other (non-fan) projects I want to focus on, so it could be quite a while before I start the next novella. But rest assured, it will be written and posted, and until then I’ll still be drawing, just perhaps not quite as often. So thank you again, and keep an eye out for the next novella whenever I do start it! :D


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